To start anew
by ola
Summary: Legolas is a messenger for the crown of Mirkwood. Long has he been away from home, before a turn of events forces him to reach his home as quickly as he may. If he fails, Mirkwood will fall. But what if the young prince does not succeed? what if a tragic
1. part 1 Fall into the shadows

                                                                                      ~ To start anew ~

                                                                                                                        by Ola

                                                                                                                        ~*~*~

A/N~ Legolas Greenleaf is a messenger for the crown of Mirkwood. Long has he been away from his home on missives to Gondor, Ithilien, Lorien, and the Gray Havens, before a turn of events forces him to reach his home as quickly as he may. If he fails, Mirkwood will fall. But what if the young prince does not reach his destination? What if he falls to the darkness? And what if he survives, but his life is forever changed by an accident?

I actually got the idea for this story while in my neurobiology class (listening to lectures about spinal reflexes, and decerebrate…things)    mmm =)

I intend on this story to be quite long (at least ten chapters), and would greatly appreciate any comments. There are no warnings, except maybe for some rather angsty moments. No romance, love, slash, sex, torture… but lots of pain, frustration and…

For now, sit back and enjoy (hopefully) the story =)

(I have been reading some very, _very_ good stories and am beginning to think that this will never compare to the wonders out there. But I do have to get those stories out of my system, and here is where they end up. I hope that they will make someone's day better. =)

                                                                                                                        ~*~*~

Part 1~ Fall into the shadows

His world was filled with the whistling of arrows. And the wind. The wind that stung his eyes and flayed his long hair about his fair face. The wind from the mad dash of his horse. And yet, that was not fast enough.

An arrow flew past his check, drawing a line of crimson. He only rode harder. For he had to deliver his message. Or Mirkwood would be lost. Mirkwood. His family. All he held dear. No, there was no question of failure.

The trees to his right were a green blur, even to his keen eyes. But he had eyes only for the dark line of pines on the horizon. Everything else was unimportant. He urged Laurenor on to his limit, and yet, the horse kept the speed imposed by his rider without a falter. It knew the danger. It knew the consequences of failure. Laurenor was the steed of a messenger; fast and lithe. Born for speed and endurance. And yet, he was not fast enough.

The growling and howling of the wargs pursued them mercilessly, the thunder of hundreds of deadly clawed paws on the ground, a roar to the elf's ears. 

How could they be so fast? No warg should have been capable of sustaining this terrible run for such a long time. And yet, they still ran on, urged by their riders into a frenzy of hate and famished rage. 

One against …how many?

No, he could not loose the time to turn around and fight, even had he a chance to delay the army of orcs to allow his fellow messengers a safer and quicker escape. For there were no more messengers to protect. No more friends to save.

He was alone.

As alone as any elf pursued by an army of orcs.

There had not even been time to grieve. Not with the bodies of his friends lost in the wave of black that were the orcs. Not with those orcs hell bent of bringing him down as well. Not with the importance of his message. And not with Laurenor swiftly bearing him away, despite his own pain for his lost friends. 

Another volley of arrows reached the rider, and this time, one struck his shoulder, skidding off the shoulder blade, and tearing away at the muscle. He gritted his teeth in pain, and blinked the wind-tears out of his eyes. Tears of wind …and pain. 

He knew he had no chance. And his heart hurt more than his body at the thought of what would happen if he failed. 

_NOOOO__!!!_

He let go of Laurenor's mane and one-handedly unbuckled his belt. Timing his balance with Laurenor's gait, he took out a short, thin cylinder out of his breast pocket and fastened it to the horse's neck with the belt, careful not to impede the steed's movements. He cursed himself at his movements, slowed by pain, when the message almost fell out of his hand.

"Noro lim Laurenor. Noro lim*. Carry this missive to my father. You know the way mellon nin*." The words flew away as soon as they were spoken. 

The arrows shoot anew, concentrating on the rider rather than the horse, and he knew that it would end soon now. No one should be able to prevail against such odds. 

No one ever did.

He knew of only one way for the message to reach Mirkwood. Laurenor. The orcs would leave the horse alone as soon as his rider would fall. And the quicker he would fall, the more chances Laur would have to escape. They were partners; messenger and steed. Long had they known each other, and long had they run for the crown of Mirkwood. Not without danger and pain. And yet, it had never come to this. He never thought it _would_ come to this. But now he knew, and briefly send a prayer to Eru to keep his soul safe until he reached the Halls of Mandos.

The ground rushed in a deadly blur under the sun-colored limbs of the horse that pounded the grass into dust. 

"Do not stop. Do not turn back Laur. Whatever happens. I believe in you mellon nin. Believe in me as well. Farewell. May E…"

A bolt smashed into the rider's upper back, slamming him against the horse's neck. Laurenor stumbled, momentarily loosing ground, before again finding his footing and dashing away into the West. The elf on its back fought against the darkness that threatened to pull him in its soothing arms. The pain in his back was a fiery agony. His eyes blurred, no longer solely from the wind. 

_No…__so close…Laur…run…_

 The shrieks barely reached his ears now, and the day darkened into grayness. Even the pain subdued somehow. His whole body hurt, now a throbbing like the breaking of a wave on a rock. A rock that became smaller and smaller as his consciousness slipped from his mind.

"Laur!" it came out as a strangled whisper, whipped away by the gale. 

Had he been able to see, the rider would have noticed the individual trees of the fast approaching forest straight ahead. Had he been able to hear, he would have noticed the cry of anger as the orcs realized their prey would loose them in the woodland maze. Had he been able to feel, he would have noticed Laurenor's muscles bunching up for a jump. 

But he did not see.

            He did not hear.

                        He did not feel.

Darkness had embraced his mind. Darkness; madly whirling shadows of dread and agony. Darkness, wrought by the hands of evil, in the form of an arrow…

            …that had severed his spine.

                                                                                                                        ~*~*~

A/N~ No this is not the end, although the upcoming chapters will be no less angsty. Please review to let me know whether you liked/disliked this beginning. Any comments/criticisms/helpful hints are much appreciated.

~Ola~

*oh, and here is my attempt at elvish (Sindarin I think =) that I picked up from the movie/book)

noro lim= hurry up, run quickly

mellon nin= my friend

(I am afraid that those are rather sketchy translations however…)


	2. part 2 Ride of darkness

~ To start anew ~

by Ola

~*~*~

A/N~ Mmm, this may be a little of a rehashing of the first chapter, but there is an important part at the end, so if you feel bored in the middle of it, at least check out the ending of this chapter. I'm sorry it's so short: I've been running around all day taking care of administrative stuff, and have lots of exams. *sigh*. Well, hope you enjoy =)

~*~*~

Part 2~ Ride of darkness

Laurenor. The golden one. And how he wished he could now equal the speed of the sun for which he had been named. As fast as the ground disappeared from under his hooves, more appeared on the horizon. More ground that did not seem to close the space between him and the dark forest of pines he could just begin to see.

And those wretched wargs he was unable to shake from his tails. How he longed to buck and smash his hooves into those jaws. But not while on duty. And certainly not while bearing his messenger. 

_His _messenger. _His _partner. Legolas Greenleaf, the prince of Mirkwood. Oh, how he had pranced on his first mission, so proud of the honor of bearing such an honorable member of the messengers of the crown. And they had bonded beyond what would have been expected of a good steed and a good courier. They had become the unlikeliests of companions. And what mischief had come to pass because of them! Those had been peaceful times however, well before the orcs and goblins started to pour out of the mountains and attack the outlying villages. 

And now, the last wave was upon them. A monumental wave the likes of which no one had yet seen. And no one would stay alive to remember it if they did not arrive in time. 

Arrows flew past them, none touching Laur, but he felt his rider's pain as yet another one found its target. How he could sustain this silence while obviously hurt was beyond Laur. And yet, was it not exactly the same thing he was doing? Running flat out while he should have foundered long ago, finding hidden sources of energy deep within him, doing all in his power to deliver his missive?

But would that be enough? The wargs were still clinging to them like burs to hair. And Legolas obviously had doubts about the success of this mission. _And who wouldn't?_ But Laurenor, although harboring similar doubts, did not in the least like what his friend had just done. Passing the message's cylinder to him could only mean one thing. A thing he was not in agreement with, although he knew it _would _probably work. _But there is no reason to believe that half of those blasted wolves won't come after me whether my rider remains with me or not. So you are staying right were you are Legolas. Do you hear me? Or will you try to act the hero? This is not the time for that. It is not a game from which you can walk away, only slightly bruised. _

Another projectile smashed into his friend, and this time, Laur stumbled from the force of the impact, wincing inwardly at the agony he knew his rider was must feel. He strained harder, the trees now much closer. If only they could make it that far.

His friend's mind, always there, on the edge, like the brush of a feather, suddenly disappeared from Laurenor's head. Although it must have been a relief to fall into the soothing hands of unconsciousness, the elf could not have chosen a worst moment to loose touch with reality. Just ahead of them lay a large gully. Large enough to necessitate a full jump. A jump that would have required the full attention of Laur's rider. For there was no way to stop or take an easier way and circle around it. There simply was no time. Laurenor bunched his hindquarters and jumped, trying to land as smoothly as he could. But the elf's unconscious body started to slide down the horse's barrel. 

Laur slightly bucked in mid-run to shrug Legolas back onto the blanket that covered his middle and served as a saddle for the lightweight elf. The unconscious body felt like an unresponsive sac of hay, and Laurenor had to suppress the panic rising within him. _No! We will BOTH outlive this quest!_ The trees were now so close that Laur could see individual branches, and soon, he plunged into the relative gloom of the dense canopy. The orcs redoubled their angry cry, feeling they would loose their quarry once it entered too far into the woods, and crashed into the underbrush. 

But Legolas's body became harder to bear as the densely wooded forest forced Laur to weave around the thick trunks. The elven steed slowed as much as he dared, and compensated for the rest by half-dancing half-bucking every other step, cutting a thin line between outrunning the foul wolves and keeping his rider from falling off. 

Trees flashed by, a blur of green. Branches wiped Laur's chest and forelegs, leaving thin bloody welts on the golden hide. 

The forest echoed with his thundering hooves, fallen leaves only slightly muffling his passing.

The growling of the wargs lessened. 

Laurenor dared to slow his headlong race, concentrating on keeping Legolas on his back. The horse was panting heavily, his barrel heaving with exertion, and his thoughts narrowing down to: run, message …Legolas, wargs …Thranduil … message …     ….Legolas …

And yet, despite his efforts, the elf could barely keep his seat, and the more he slowed, the harder he had to sidestep and "shrug" to prevent him from tumbling down. His muscles strained to accomplish what was required of them, while they should have given up long ago. They burned with a low, smothering ach that slowly burned out most coherent thoughts.

_At least …he is … … un…conscious. Cannot bear …think     …how  … should hurt. Pain …          … un…bearable. Hang on…        …Not far. _

Left shoulder shrug.

_Not far._He would have snorted if he could have spared the breath. _No. Only four… short…   … little… hours…        … more._

Right-hindquarter-buck.

He could no more hear the wargs. Only his heavy breathing and his hooves striking the ground. Perhaps they had a chance after all. Laur picked up his gallop again, his mind bent on reaching Thrnduil's hall.

And suddenly, Legolas's body overbalanced to the left, and fell to the ground with a soft thud. 

Laur skidded to a halt, covered in whitish foam, and his eyes showing whites. 

_NO!!!_

He gently nosed the limp form. Not even a whimper or a moan escaped the unconscious elf. Laurenor circled around his friend, pawing at the ground, and looking out fearfully into the depth of the forest. He snuffled, and again prodded his rider, his movements now jerky from fatigue, and his legs wide apart to keep himself from falling and joining his messenger on the ground. As much as his tired mind screamed at him to stay next to his friend, deep down he knew his obligation. His duty. What Legolas would have expected him to do.

A terrifying neigh filled the forest, followed by another, frighteningly loud one, full of anger and despair.

Thunder exploded as Laur galloped away, madly crashing through whatever found itself in his path, only barely avoiding the trees.

And then silence.

The deep silence of emptiness.

~*~*~

A/N~ so? Advice? Comments?

-cheysuli- thanks =) I'm still waiting for that fic of yours! (the one about "learning to see", you know, the one you haven't updated for months!!) *grins and waves* 

-I need a name- well, not much else happened here, but there will be a lot more in the next chapter. I promise.

-eck- =) mmm, well, maybe we could keep him just on this side of life, eh? *grins* it's much more fun that way =) but yep, poor guy, it's weir how many people are hell bent on making him suffer. =)

-casualis- thanks. =)


	3. part 3 From dark shadows to darker...

~ To start anew ~

by Ola

~*~*~

A/N~ Really really sorry about not posting earlier. I meant to do it in the beginning of last week, but got very busy. I have good excuses too!: exams, study for exams, essays to write, and lots of administrative stuff to take care of for next year (rooming, classes, and the inherent problems coming with each…) and I was tired, and got sunburned, and got a blister on the palm of my hand, and I'm babbling… =) ok, I'll stop. Thank you VERY much for everyone who reviewed. I promise I'll upload the next chapter sooner. I'm glad you liked Laurenor's point of view =) and now, for those who are still sticking to this story, here is the next chapter:

~*~*~

Part 3~ From dark shadows…to darker reality

Darkness.                     Soothing darkness. 

And soft murmurs at the edge of consciousness. And…a presence. Sometimes more. But always that one…the one that never left.

                        Shadowy fog, thinning and thickening in alternation. 

                                    Voices receding. 

            Coolness on his face.

                                                                         A trickle of warm water. 

Then again the overpowering darkness where no thoughts penetrate.                  No thoughts…              and no light.

~*~*~

He felt a soft, warm blanket resting just underneath his chin. A blanket, a safe heaviness. A dim light filtered through his glazed and unfocused eyes, and his thoughts percolated in his empty mind like two pebbles in a large, empty metal box. He instinctively turned away form those thoughts, and let the darkness take him yet again, with that presence still at his side.

Many times he came to the edge of wakefulness, and many times he dropped back into the dark of the abyss…until one time, there was no darkness to turn too, no soothing obscurity to embrace him and lull him back to sleep. Only the ever-growing light…and the presence next to him.

"Legolas?" the voice was soft, and…uncertain? Uncertain of his wakefulness? _Was_ he awake? 

He slowly turned his head toward the sound. So slow. So tired. And the thoughts coming back. And images. Images of trees blurring by, of Laurenor's straining neck, of… of the wave of black. The sound of hooves, of clawed pads, of…of horrifying growls of rage. 

And the pain.

And the memory of the…

"_Yrchs__!_ Ada! The attack! The message! Lord Elrond's message! The…" 

"Sshhh, my son. Laurenor arrived in time. Mirkwood defeated the attack. Think no more of it." He felt a warm and callused hand stroke his hair from his forehead. "Peace. Sleep my little sunshine. I'll be here with you." His father's hand continued the caress, while the other lay on the mattress near his own hand.

So sleepy…so…

                                                so…tired…

Ada was here.                                                  

                                                                                    … Everything was all right…

He smiled; his eyes slightly lost their focus again. He turned his head back to stare absently at the ceiling, and a strand of golden hair slid onto his face, ticking his nose. He smiled again, feeling like a little elfling waiting for his ada to begin a good night story, while he was snuggled in his warm blankets, and his eyes were half glazed already.

He snuffed at the offending hair, only managing to tickle himself further. He meant to sweep it away with his hand, but only managed to jerk his shoulder. Was he so tired he could not even move his limbs? That had to be it. He _was_ unaccustomedly tired. A feeling as if the world would blur and spin away at any minute. 

But the hair still tickled. And he could not move it away. 

He turned his head back toward his father…and saw in his eyes…sorrow? Pain?

Why?

He looked down at his father's other hand. 

It was not near his own.

It was _on _it.

And he didn't even feel it…

Nor did he feel the weight of the blanket below his shoulders… or the mattress beneath his hands. 

            …he didn't feel anything at all.

Except fear.

Because it all made sense.

The chase, the arrow, the agonizing pain in his back…the…he…

"Sunshine?" his father's eyes. The sorrow. The pain. Yes, it all made sense; a horrible, unthinkable sense.

He didn't know his father had taken his hand into both of his, and was rubbing it gently, until he glanced at it and saw what was happening to it. And that simple gesture brought tears to his eyes.

He turned his head away.

"Sunshine. I'm so sorry." A whisper, full of pain and unspilled tears.

"Why are you sorry." Legolas' voice was flat even to his own ears.

"I …I should have forbidden you to run that message. It was too dangerous. And I knew it. And I let you go. I'm sorry. I…"

"No ada. Please. I…I was so happy when you allowed me to join the messengers of the crown. I was happy you respected me as a grown up and believed in me. Please…don't take that away from me."

"Oh, sunshine…my son. I will always be proud of you. I love you more dearly than my own life. Never you forget that." There was a desperate force in those words even thought the voice was barely a whisper.

"I love you too ada. I always will. Don't…don't blame yourself. It wasn't your fault. You couldn't have known."

"You know me better than that sunshine."

A faint smile. "I do. But I also love you too much to make you sad."

"You never gave me cause to be angry at you Legolas. You were and still are a darling elfling."

"I'm not that young anymore ada." His lips stretched a little more, although the smile did not reach his eyes.

The elf King sighed. "No sunshine, you are not."

"Ada? Could you please leave me alone for a little while?" 

"Of course." Thranduil kissed his son's forehead, and gently squeezed his shoulder before he stood up. "I'll be right outside. Call if you need anything. I'll come." He lingered for a moment, his worried eyes on his son's pale face, until Legolas turned his head away.

~*~*~

The elven King softly closed the door behind him, and leaned his back against the wall.  His sorrow robbed him of his strength, and he slowly let himself slide to the polished wooden floor, where he brought his knees to his chest, and buried his face in his hands. Long he sat outside his son's room, stifling his sobs and tears, although they threatened to spill out at any moment. 

His son. His precious little sunshine. 

_Why?__ Oh Eru, why? Give me strength. Give HIM strength. He needs it more than I. Please, I…I beg thee._

Guilt, sadness and fatherly love ran around in circles in his mind, shut out form the rest of the world. The rest of the world did not _matter_ at this moment. It would go on turning. But Legolas…

_Aii__, Eru. Do not let him die of grief, for I will follow him. Give him strength. And hope._

The king startled at the sudden appearance of his son's healer. Had he been so immersed in pain as to fail hearing the faint footsteps? But there he was, his hand on the doorknob, his eyes respectfully turned away from his prostrated ruler.

"Healer Vanyar." 

"My king?" The elf nodded his greeting, awaiting what he sensed was to follow.

"Please… leave Legolas a little time for himself… He knows." The healer nodded again, understanding and a sorrow of his own for his young prince shining clearly in his keen eyes.

"I will come back in half an hour to check on him."

"Thank you Vanyar."

~*~*~

On the other side of the wall, Legolas stared at the ceiling, lying motionless. 

_But what else could I be doing?_ His mind voice dripped with sarcasm. And then, there was again pain, but the pain of the mind and the inner self. The self-loathing at what he would no doubt become, the fear, the sadness of what he would never be able to do, the sorrow he knew this must be causing his father.

His vision blurred, this time from tears that silently slid down his cheeks. Tears he could not wipe away. And that made them fall the faster. But even pummeled by emotions as he was, he caught the words that drifted from the hallway into his room. 

"He knows."

_Oh yes. He knows. And how he hates it._

~*~*~

A/N~ so? Is that what you expected? The next part hopefully is coming soon. (hey, I hate waiting for stories, so I understand your pain. …or the lack of it for those of you who don't like this story =) please review! (what author doesn't like those? *wink wink*)


	4. part 4 Truth hurts

~ To start anew ~

by Ola

~*~*~

A/N~ back to normal schedule (one post per week)….unless the final exams of in two weeks come screw everything up again! =) thank you so much for the reviews *hugs everyone* little comments at the end. Enjoy the story!

~*~*~

Part 4~ Truth hurts

"Good evening Legolas."

"Good evening Vanyar." The young elf's voice was flat and emotionless, as he stared at the ceiling.

"I will tell you the truth. There is no reason in saying half of what is needed to be said. And you already know what is happening to you, except for the details. To be honest, I have never seen or heard of a paralyzed elf. All the ones who suffered your fate died mere hours after being struck. Lord Elrond has been summoned and will arrive in nine days. He, if anyone, will know more about your condition. Meanwhile, all I can do is keep your pain at bay, and discover the extent of your affliction, if you will allow me." The healer's voice was soft, but it held no pity. He knew the detriments of such a feeling toward his patients and had long ago cast it aside, as hard as it sometimes was.

The older elf sat on the bed and looked intensely at his prince before continuing. "I cannot say whether you will ever walk again Legolas. I do believe you can regain some of your abilities, although it will be a slow and painful process. But one that can be accomplished if you are willing to give it your best instead of giving in to grief. However, only you can decide what your future will hold."

The younger elf turned his head, and looked at his healer for the first time since the latter had come into his bedroom. There was no emotion in his eyes; nothing the healer could understand and latch onto to help him. "Thank you Vanyar. I appreciate your honesty. Do whatever is necessary." 

Vanyar placed the palm of his hand on Legolas' brow, unsatisfied with how the young prince was taking the news. Yes, he had wanted to hear the truth, and thought he was ready for it, but he was still young, still full of hopes. At least he was…until this moment. For there was no more hope in those eyes now. Only emptiness. No, Vanyar could not loose his patient. _Patient? _He was more like a younger brother. Long had Vanyar known the prince. He was there at his birth, and he recalled the moment as if it was mere days ago. The little newborn had looked at the world with enormous sky blue eyes and a little smile, while clutching his mother's hand with tiny fingers. Quickly he had grown into a mischievous elfling, always discovering new things to wonder at, finding everything interesting, and getting into no few scraps because of his insatiable curiosity. Always he had looked on life as something to be taken with a smile, and there was always some good to be found in every wrong. That was the Legolas that everyone had come to know and cherish. Not the dispirited young elf that lay lifelessly on the bed.

_He's sick, weak, and will never walk again. How would _you_ feel? Thank Eru he's alive!                 And pray to Elbereth he will stay that way…_

Healer Vanyar gently probed the young elf's body while asking if he felt anything. It was a simple exam, but long and hard on the prince's moral. Even though he had wanted the truth, he was not sure he was ready for _all_ of it. 

_But I would find out sooner or later. Better sooner, and get it over with._

His resolve to stay calm and optimistic was slowly uprooted, as Vanyar's probing reached his torso…his arms…his elbows…and still nothing. He shivered as the healer's warm hand finally brushed against his shoulder, and he felt the touch. A cold lump settled in his throat. He didn't know if there was one in his stomach as well. And for the moment, he couldn't even bring himself to think that at least he had been ridden of butterflies in his abdomen for good. No. There was no good in this wrong. There could never be.

Vanyar did not comment on his administrations, for which Legolas was greatly thankful. He somehow did not think he wanted to hear anyone's voice for a while. Nor see anyone. He only wanted to be left alone. Alone with what he had become. For a moment, he thought the older elf would actually leave right away as he moved away from the bed, but he only turned toward a table, moved a few things around, and came back with a cup full of an opaque white liquid.

"Drink."

He propped his patient up and held the cup to his lips, slowly tipping it, then gently laid Legolas back down on the pillows. 

"Sleep." And with a soft smile, made to reassure, he finally left.

The young prince closed his eyes, letting go of his mask of indifference. He was alone now. 

_Alone. Like I wanted to be. And why doesn't it help?_

He felt even worst than previously. Alone with his misery, he could not help but wallow in self-pity. And for a while, it gave him a twisted pleasure to do so…

…until his strength ran out.

…until he realized he would never be able to draw a bow.

…until he cried himself to sleep, tears and pain etched on his pale face.

~*~*~

A/N~ 

-cheysuli- is that a good thing?...here, take some tissues…hope you're okay now =)

-ophelia- mmm, updates everyday? *smiles sheepishly*

-tapetum- lol. I happen to _like neurobiology =) *grins like an idiot* (and maybe I am one, but oh well… =)_

-eck- _eeeeecckkkkkk_!!! _ *grins and waves* lol. Thanks so much. I'll try to edit that sentence then. As for Aragorn….I was thinking about squeezing him someplace too and giving him a little part, and then I had an even better idea…but you'll have to wait for a little while *grins evily and ducks tomatoes* =)_

-robin- thanks

-estel- legolas fan eh? *grins and nods head knowingly* =)

-daw the minstrel- well, there wasn't much about the content of the message. Sorry if you expected more, but it was just a convenient way to get legolas into an accident. Hope you're still reading anyway =)

-jambaby- well, here is the next and next post =)

….hope I didn't miss anyone… =) I love long reviews by the way *hint hint* *grins* =)


	5. part 5 Father and son

~ To start anew ~

by Ola

~*~*~

A/N~ A little short. Sorry! *grins sheepishly* but the next one is really long! I swear! =) I have finals starting next week, and after that, vacations!!!!!! Yaahaaa!!! =) so happy! I hope this is not getting boring. A new character will come up in chapter 6 =) *grins* 

Oh, does anyone know how to keep my title centered? (It is centered in Microsoft word, but then gets "decentered" in fanfic =(

~*~*~

Part 5~ Father and son

"How is he?" 

"The wound on his back is healing well. He has feeling down to the middle of his upper arms. He might regain some of his abilities." The healer looked at his king, knowing very well how he must be worrying for his son. He had never seen his liege display such nervousness; he seemed to have aged much in a few nights, a phenomenon not uncommon to elves but usually rare, brought on by too much stress. 

_Stop this Van! _The healer admonished himself._ Stop thinking like a healer and act like a friend. He needs your support now. _

"You are not telling me something friend." Thranduil's voice was soft and weary as he looked into his healer's eyes.

"Honestly?" The king nodded. 

"He is unwell. He retreats into himself. I fear for him." The healer inwardly cringed at the change in his king. It seemed as if something suddenly left Tnranduil. Something that he desperately needed, and which hurt to be torn away from him so. 

_Like father like son. Both want the whole truth but deep down expect me to give them a miracle. It hurts to shatter their hope so, but each of them has the right to know. And _should _know, although it is a painful truth. Aii Elbereth, let Lord Elrond come soon, and pray he may help our prince._

"Lord Elrond may help. He is far more knowledgeable than I. If anyone can be of aid, it is he. Nothing will happen to Legolas until he arrives. And when he examines him, perhaps something good will come of it. Have hope my friend. Do not give up…be strong for your son, for he will need that strength."

The king patted Vanyar's shoulder. "Thank you Van. I appreciate your honesty." The healer smiled, as much to thank Thranduil as for the words themselves. _Exactly the same ones. Strange is the word of the unconscious. And stranger yet are the ties of father and son. Pray they help in this situation as well, for both need each other to heal this hurt._

~*~*~

Lord Elrond turned back to Legolas's bed and brought a cup full of a cool amber drink to his lips. "Drink."

The younger elf twisted his face. "It smells like skunk. Do you hate me so much Elrond? At least have a little mercy and put a dollop of honey into this vile concoction of yours." A smile –the first in weeks- played on his lips.

A similar smile tugged at the dark-haired elf's own lips before he mock-frowned and used his best stop-a-charging-rhinoceros-in-its-tracks voice to reiterate the commend. The prince heaved a long-suffering sigh before gulping the liquid, his face clearly showing how horrible it tasted. He had grown used to the feeling of drink and food disappearing when it reached the level of his heart and to rely on vision to assess how much he had eaten. It was simply one thing among many others that he had learned perforce during the past few days. Things he would have gladly gone on living without knowing. But…

He turned a face full of surprise and incomprehension toward the Elder, who chuckled. "What do you feel?"

 "It's…it's much akin to … to a low fire smoldering through my veins and…my" he gasped "my feet! And my fingers! they…tingle! They…I…it's the only way I can describe it."

"Good. Very good." A speculative frown fluttered through his face, and he looked at his patient for a long moment, but he did not enlighten the prince any further. "Now we wait."

Legolas wished he could have leaped out of bed and strangled the elf Lord. He was as secretive as Mithrandir, and on a few occasions, even more so; a very irritating quality, especially for the one who was at the receiving end of it. And yet, the prince kept his calm, mostly because he could _not_ do any such things anymore.

_He is not sure it will work. He wants me to hope, thinking it will keep the grief at bay. He…he is trying to keep me alive at best he can, using all the resources at his disposition, medical…and others. He knows. He, father and Vanyar…they all know how close I am to the end. I can no more fool them than I can walk. But…they are also very much aware that only I can fight against the darkness that lies in my mind and heart. And at the moment, I do not know whether I wish to. And whether I can._

Legolas kept a brave smile for the time it took Elrond to vacate his rooms. As the door closed, so did his eyes, against the tears that yet again threatened to spill.

~*~*~

"Legolas?" a hand gently shook his shoulder, a gesture by which the prince would have recognized his father without the voiced greeting, even in the half-sleep he found himself in. He blinked, a faint annoyance, quickly suppressed, at not being able to rub the sleep out of his eyes. 

"Good morning father." He forced a cheery smile on lips that felt too heavy to pull up. But it was worth for the responsive smile his father directed at him. 

"How are you feeling?" this time, his smile was heartfelt and reached his eyes. Everyday, his father came by, making a little time for his son before he was obliged to attend council. He had not done so since Legolas had reached ninety-two years of age. It was a time of silence, as night gave place to day, and the creatures of the forest began to stir. It was a time for them alone, and a moment Legolas looked forward to, even though it usually started with the same question. That is what made him smile, but the repetition was safe. Routine was safe. Anything stable, in a world that was anything but, was welcomed with open arms.

"My head feels fine. So does my neck. Everything else just took a walk of undeterminable length." 

Thranduil sat down on the edge of the bed, his hand unconsciously smoothing his son's hair. "Sunshine…Silviana and Talenor asked whether you were ready to see them. Are you? You do not have to if it is not your wish…"

But the names that flashed in Legolas's mind were those of different friends. Friends who…. His throat closed tightly, and he cast a grief stricken gaze at his father as old memories resurfaced from behind the barricade his mind had put around them. Ghastly memories that made him tremble.

_Lenatril! Berlinor! Eru, tell me it is not true! Please! It cannot be true! _

But there was nothing wrong with his mind, and he was all too aware that those memories were nothing but the truth. A painful truth he wished he could burry deeply in himself, if he could not banish it altogether. And yet, another voice challenged the first.

_They were your friends. Remember them as such. Do not forget them for the pain their memory brings. Remember them, and they will live with you, in your heart, as friends should. Do not let their souls haunt Middle Earth because you hold the key to their peace. Allow them safe passage to the Halls of Mandos. And remember. Always remember the fallen with the living._

"Legolas!" His father's voice finally cut through the darkness of sorrow, as the shaking of his shoulders and hands could not. It was so troubled it hurt. "What is wrong!? H…" 

"Peace ada." Twin tears slid down the young elf's cheeks, as he looked at his father with eyes full of resignation, pain and loss. "Lenatril and Berlinor. They both fell in the last leg of the journey. They…ada, they were shot in the head, from behind. I…I saw them fall. And I could do nothing to prevent it. I do not even know exactly where, for my memory of that place is but a blur of flying hooves. Aii, ada. It hurts. It hurts to know what befell them." King Thranduil gathered his son in his arms and let his grief run free. Wracked by sobs, and unable to cling to his father for support, the young prince pressed his head into the king's soft green tunic, and simply cried while his father hugged him close, all matters of council and kingdom postponed without a thought. 

~*~*~

A/N~ so how was it? You're still hanging on in there?!!! =)

I hope Legolas isn't crying too much. He is a very brave elfling, but hey, how would _you feel in his shoes?_

-cheysuli- nope. No arms and no bow. I'm sorry.          …not yet anyway =)

-ophelia- elrond's here!!! =) and you're right about Elrond and CO! because there's more of them!!! (in chapter 6) *grins*

-eck- hee hee. Thanks!! A cake! *sigh as stomach rumbles and forces herself to finish before making herself something very BIG to eat!* =) my closing lines? Lol. So glad you like them! And beware! Aragorn's coming!!!! *grins* yep. Thank you so much for the long review *grins again* =) you made my day (I'm looking for work, and up to know have been said a polite "no thank you, we already have someone" 5 times!!! =(

-crazygirly- you're back!!!! =) Legolas says thank you for tucking him in. he really appreciates it. =) yep, thranduil is nice. (I don't see how Legolas could have been so…so…well, NICE and perfect, if his ada was mean to him! =) *grins* don't worry, there won't be TOO much of Elrond =) and thanks so much for reviewing all the chapters!!!!! *waves and grins again*

sigh. I'm done. Thanks so much again! 


	6. part 6 Visitors and visitors

~ To start anew ~

by Ola

~*~*~

A/N~ As promised, a longer chapter. I hope you like it (I'm taking a self imposed break form studying to post it. Hey, I don't like studying when it rains, so I'm giving myself an excuse not to! =)

~*~*~

Part 6~ Visitors and….visitors

Despite the King's assurance that no visitors would be allowed into the young elf's room without his consent during his infirmity, quite a few managed to worm their way through the orders and avoid Healer Vanyar, Lord Elrond, and King Thranduil himself. They meant to do well, wishing to raise the prince's spirits, and see for themselves what was happening, for few words leaked outside of Legolas's room as to the state of his health. Rumors circulated around, all of them wide off the mark, but all of them taken into account by the young elf's close friends. 

Silviana and Talenor were the first two to try their luck at evading the palace guards, servants and occasional elf lord or lady residing in the palace. Waiting in a contiguous corridor for the occupants of their friend's room to vacate the premises, their minds were filled with gossips and amusing tales with which to greet Legolas. They were _not_ ready for what they saw as they finally sneaked into the bedroom. They stood still for a moment, their eyes rooted on the pale face lying on the bed and peaking from under a light green blanket. _Pale_ was not exactly the word. _Washed out_ or _palid_ would have been much more appropriate, for Legolas look…sick. Very sick. And that was _not_ a normal state for an elf to be in two weeks after his injury. The two elves glanced at each other, clearly reading the worry and shock in each other's eyes. 

"Legolas?" Silviana called gently. When no answer was forthcoming, she sat on the edge of the bed, careful not to wake her friend, while Talenor took a nearby chair. They waited patiently for any sign of change. _Anything_ would have been better than this silence. And they could not simply go ask Lord Elrond what the matter was, for they were not supposed to be here, let alone know that Legolas was gravely ill. For they suspected that that was the reason they had been denied this visit. _At whose discretion?__ Legolas's or his father's? Perhaps both? But Legolas would have had to be awake and aware to give any kind of order, thus the situation may not be as dire as we think…_ but another long look at the pain creased brow of her friend told Silviana that she was groping for a vain hope. 

~*~*~

As the door finally closed on his friends, Legolas clenched his jaw and tightly closed his eyes against the incoming tears. _Do they not understand?! Do they not understand I wish to be left alone? Must they keep coming and distressing me so! He would have liked to do much more than cry. _Ram my head against a wall, punch the door, fire a volley of arrows into the sky …or just scream…_ His whole body trembled with the tension of keeping the tears in, but the reign he had on his emotions was as weak as every other part of his body, and a sob escaped him. It quickly turned into a soft cry, muffled by the pillow as he turned his head away from the door. There was no point in bringing the healers swarming on him simply because he was crying, while they wondered what was hurting him. _Because everything is, and nothing is.__ Everything will, and nothing ever will again._ _

_Do they expect me to lie in my bed and dream of butterflies? I will _never_ walk again. I will _never_ punch the door. And I will _never_ fire an arrow! I can scream all I want, and it will _never _bring any of that back!!_

A louder moan escaped him, but he stopped caring whether he was heard. _It's not as if I have any dignity left! I have to be _washed_! I have to be _fed!_ I have to be taken to the _privy!_ I do not wish _anyone_ to _ever_ tell me to be happy!! _ The thoughts became angry screams that filled his mind, driving everything else out until –much too shortly- he ran out of strength and lay still, panting for breath. _And what else can I do but _lay still? He asked himself in a whisper. No one bothered to answer, and Legolas was left feeling utterly lost.

_I will never be part of this world again. I wish to forget about everything…and friends who stage impromptu visits do _not_ help, although they think they do._

Earlier that day, Legolas had barely had time to turn his head slightly away from the door and unfocuse his eyes to fain sleep as he realized that the visitors were neither Vanyar, Lord Elrond, or his father. He also almost gave himself away when he realized _who_ was standing by his bedside. Memories of Lenatril's and Berlinor's death flashed through his mind, and all he could do was cringe away while they ran on and on, like mice trapped in a barrel. The sound of someone speaking his name brought him out of that raw horror, although it did not erase the pain. It was all he could do to keep an appearance of outward calm while his insides roiled in turmoil and despair. Perhaps his hurt managed to slip by the careful mask on his face, for the friends did not stay long before they left him to his "healing rest."

Unfortunately, Silviana and Talenor were not the only two who wished to bid Legolas swift healing. In the course of the next few days, three more of his fellow messengers came in, alone, navigating between Healer Vanyar's sessions of massage therapy, and King Thranduil's talks. They were never enjoyed, although a small part of Legolas cringed at the thought of misleading his friends so. After all, they dared Vanyar's wrath –neither small nor short by any means- to see him, and all he did in return was evade them. 

He had even taken to unfocusing his eyes and faining sleep at the least noise outside his door. Vanyar wondered at this increased sleepiness, but did not comment on it except that it would build his strength quicker if he rested. But how he was wrong! For instead of providing a quiet solace, those "sleeping bouts" took more out of the young prince than he cared to admit. He was always left strained, and at the end of his resources after each one, and yet, he never told Vanyar about them. How could he, when he hated himself so for lying to his friends? And yet, he could do nothing else, and still cling to the fraying end of the rope that was his sanity and life.

~*~*~

A little head full of black locks peaked out from behind the corner of a hallway. It stood but a little over three feet from the floor, and swiveled left and right, and left again. The rest of the body then padded into the empty hallway, revealing narrow shoulders covered by a dark green jacket, and two short legs which ended with soft-soled booted feet. Hugging the wall, the child hurried with surprising silence to a door at the other end of the corridor. There he stopped, and glanced again to each side to assure himself he was still alone, before he rested his ear against a wooden door. What he heard on the other side must have given him courage, for with one backward glance, he rose on his toes, and turned the handle, barely reaching high enough to grasp it with his short fingers. He slipped inside, closed the heavy door with a soft click, and only then turned to face the room he had entered.

It was a room like any other. A large door opened onto a balcony, letting in a slight breeze that ruffled the gauzy material of the curtains. A bed stood with its headboard against the wall, a desk was pushed against the opposite wall. A chair of a similar design stood next to the bed, obviously used quite often by visitors. A little bed table was exactly were it should be: at the reach of a hand, right next to the bed. Three more large door-windows in the third wall let in quite an amount of light and air. Yes, this was quite a normal room…except for the elf lying on the bed…or rather _in it, for the bed seemed to have swallowed him._

The child took all of this in at a glance, his eyes finding the sleeping elf and staying there for quite a while. The light blanket covering the elf rose slowly up and down with each breath, and the child unconsciously synchronized his own breathing to the same rhythm. An inner thought seemed to push him forward. He came right up to the bed and put his little hands on the edge of the soft mattress; a small frown creased his brow, as much because he could not see much from this position as because what he _did see from up close was a little unsettling. Spying the chair, he trotted to it on the other side of the bed, climbed on it somewhat clumsily, making relatively little sound, then again peered at the young elf on the bed, his head slightly bending to a side. Obviously, this was not a satisfactory vantage point either, for the child scrambled off to the floor, pushed the chair right up to the edge of the bed –wincing and shrinking back on himself as it rapped rather loudly on the wooden floor- before once again taking a sit. _

"Le-go-las?" his little hand extended toward the young elf and gently tapped his shoulder while he whispered the name with great care. The lack of answer was not a deterrent.

"I brought you a cookie…it's honey and nuts." The child spoke with a slight lisp, the origin of which became quite clear as soon as he opened his mouth, for he lacked his two front teeth. "When I'm sad, my ada brings me cookies. I like cookies, they make me happy…my ada said you were sad so I thought you would like one too. … …I couldn't bring you milk because ada made me drink all of mine and …and I don't know where the kitchen is." 

There was the sound of a paper napkin creasing as the child produced a little package from somewhere behind him, and held it to the elf. His face fell a little when his gift was not accepted. He bravely got down to the floor, padded to the other side of the bed, and placed the cookie on the bedside table, patting it fondly and pushing away a few bottles to make place for the offering, then made his way back to his seat.

A door opened and closed somewhere nearby, making the child jump in fright. He held tightly to the edges of the chair as he listened to the muffled voices receding into the distance. An audible sigh accompanied the silence. And then a badly suppressed squeal of surprise as he found himself the object of attention of two large blue eyes. 

"H…hello" a tremulous smile appeared on his childishly round face. Those blue eyes kept looking at him for what seemed like an awfully long time to the young child, before the elf replied "hello." Well, that is what the child thought the elf said, for it was spoken so softly he barely heard it.

"I brought you a cookie." The child repeated himself, and went on to once again explain why. A little smile appeared on the elf's pale face, and the child beamed with unconcealed joy.

Like all little children, he spoke without restraint; everything on his mind was worth saying or asking. "Why are you sad?" Legolas kept his silence for such a long moment that the child thought about repeating his question. But what to answer to the youngling? He would not understand. And even if he would, Legolas did not wish to talk to him about such unhappy events. Yes, he would learn about them in the future, but this was not the time.

"I am ill, little one, and sad to be unable to walk under the trees." There, that was vague enough without being a lie.

"Oh…" the child swung his short legs above the floor. "Why are you sick?" 

A strange expression crossed the elf's face, and a very soft something resembling a tear chocked chuckle escaped him. "I do not know."

"Oh." Another moment of silence descended on the room, punctuated by the chirrup of a bird. Legolas stared at the ceiling and the child looked at the floor. His shoulder length hair swang into his eyes, and he swept them away with an annoyed look that spoke volumes about his thoughts on long hair. He again found himself under the scrutiny of those lambent blue eyes, and wondered, as only a mischievous four year old used to being reprimanded for his "tricks" could, what he had done wrong _this time. For what the elf had perceived under that mass of dark hair was the tip of an ear… as round as an egg._

"What is your name youngling? Or would you like me to call you 'little one'?" as he had surmised, the boy sat straight up in his chair, full of as much pride as his little body could hold.

"Ada calls me Estel." Well, that was not much information. Legolas did not know anyone who had a child by that name. But what would a human child be doing in the palace? Of course, men from Elsgaroth often came to talk to his father in matter of trade, and some brought their children with them, both to accustom the younglings to their allies, and to teach them the craft of their fathers. But none were now in Mirkwood that he knew of, and none lived in the woods permanently. An elf's visitor then?

"But my brothers call me _tithenpen__*" he wrinkled his nose, clearly showing what he thought about that type of affection. _An elven name and an elven nickname bestowed upon him by his brothers! This little boy is quite a mystery, and only one simple manner exists to unravel this ball of yarn.__

"Who is your ada Estel?"

The child looked at him quizzically. "Ada is ada… but people call him El-rond." Again that careful pronunciation, but this time unnoticed by the elven prince, whose whole attention was riveted on that last name.

_Well, that explains it…somewhat…    but not really…           no, no at all…_

That was a large mouthful to swallow. A little _too large, and thus Legolas laid it aside for the moment, deciding to ruminate on it at his leisure at a later occasion. Time was one thing he had in abundance now. In the meantime, a sparkle lit his eyes as a shrewd idea formed in his mind._

"Your ada is not aware of your presence here." The words were not expressly spoken as a question, and the boy remained silent, but his face once again gave his feelings away. His eyes grew round and darted fearfully to the door, while his little mouth tightened in stubbornness. Legolas could not stop himself from laughing, imagining quite well what kind of spirited child young Estel was. _The holly terror of the servants.__ The bane of the dignified lords and ladies. All in all quite similar to a certain elven prince. _His smile became a little strained before it slipped away entirely. _It is the past. No good will come of living entrapped in the times of yore. As wise as those thoughts were, they brought renewed pain, a pain that was difficult to hide, even to a young human child._

"Am I dis-trubing…dis-tubring…you? Ada said not to." Estel looked at the elf, his gray eyes holding concern, waiting for the answer as if it was of utmost importance, and it most probably was for him. 

"No Estel, you are not disturbing me," Legolas said, another smile playing on his lips, realizing that it was quite true. The little boy had won his heart. _I have not smiled so and felt so…alive…since…since that day. He sighed softly, beginning to feel to weight of the hours upon his weary body. Perhaps the emotional pain added to that smothering weight as well. Whatever the cause, Legolas felt the world slipping away from his feeble grasp. One last thought squeezed itself into his mind before he fell into a deep sleep once again, a sleep from which even Estel's insistent prodding and soft callings could not draw him out into the light: __Oh Eru, why is it so hard to bear? Why?_

~*~*~

* tithenpen= tithen (little) pen (one)     from Sindairn dictionary (or perhaps it should be pentithen? =) mmm, I am definitely _not_ an authority on this subject. If you think it's wrong, please tell me!! =)

A/N~ hee hee, so? How do you like Estel? =)

-cheysuli- !!!!! ahhh!!!! Can I borrow that idea? Please please, say yes!?  And I'll ask Legolas to give you a hug! Eh? =)

-crazygirly- thanks so much! =) so, how did you like Aragorn? *grins* maybe not quite what you were expecting… *grins even more*…and no thranduil this time, but he's hanging around…will probably be back next chapter =)

-ophelia- well, you got more elves, but no real interaction though…=) mmmm, you got me thinking….make Legolas better, or leave him like that?...i had an idea, but now I'm not so sure anymore….will have to write lots of angst in the meantime before I find an ending then! =)

-vuaryn- welcome! Hope you're still hanging on =)

-lady of dreams- lol. *looks at the rivendell twins and can't stop from giggling* 


	7. part 7 Dark winds of loneliness

~ To start anew ~

by Ola

~*~*~

A/N~ Aii! Sorry it took me so long! Finals and moving out of dorm rooms. You can blame it on that. Or on little Estel, for he is partly to blame as well. I had a chapter written, but then _he came in, and muddled every thing, because I couldn't just leave him hanging like that after giving him half a chapter. So here he is now, and the proud owner of the "make-ola-write-more-about-me-and-about-legolas-angst" tactic. _

And _then fanfiction.net decided not to work anymore. What's wrong with the world? *sigh*_

~*~*~

Part 7~ Dark winds of loneliness 

When the young prince woke again, Vanyar was waiting at his side, dubiously eying something on the bed table. As the world refocused and the room stopped its slow spinning, Legolas glanced at the object holding the healer's attention and almost snickered, holding the laugh inside of him by pure will alone in order to hold Estel's earlier visit a secret as long as he could. It would do the little child's derrière no good if Lord Elrond learned of his son's illicit escapade. And that thought drew him to his prior contemplations. Who exactly was Estel? 

_Last I visited the fair Rivendell, Lord Elronds' progeniture counted one beautiful elven maid and two _very_ impish young elves given the names of Elladan and Elrohir. The Lady of Imladris is long ago past to Valinor, and I greatly doubt Lord Elrond found himself a new spouse in so short a time since my last visit, not counting that the whole of Mirkwood would have known the fact in less time it took to speak the new Lady's name. _Of all the elven realms, Mirkwood was known as the fastest spreading gossips. _Ah yes, and how many misunderstandings flourished because of the flapping tongues of a certain few people? They talk so much they produce a breeze of their own! _ Legolas kept his smile purely internal while a few particular memories of pranks and the resulting scandals flashed through his mind. _Pranks that strangely, _always_ involved the Rivendell twins._

_But no, that idea cannot hold a grain of truth. _He went back to his musings while Vanyar busied himself with preparing yet another concoction._ What then? He _is_ half elven, but I strongly believe that all his children will have the pointed ears of their father, no matter who their mother might be. And I doubt either Elladan or Elrohir could have kept the presence of another brother a secret for long. They usually tell me every__thing. And when I say everything, I mean everything! _Even some things I would gladly have spent the rest of my life not knowing. _Yet another smile threatened to burst on his face, and this time, he could not manage to hold it. Fortunately, Vanyar had turned his back to him, and the younger elf calmed down long before his healer turned back to him again. It was strange really, how Estel made him smile so. _Estel___ or simply thinking about anything even remotely connected to him. Well, that might be due to the fact that he has the twins for brothers, and life is never dull around them…It never was in the past at least. He stopped the direction of those thoughts before they could pull him down into a maelstrom of renewed pain and self-loating. Yes, life was not what is used to be, and never will again, and the young elf did not particularly wish to think about it at all, but neither did he want to spend his remaining days on Middle-Earth in a daze of sorrow._

_So are you thinking about staying after all?_ A soft voice spoke in his head. A voice that asked questions worth thinking about. _Am I? _

Long he thought about the choice he could –and would- have to make. Vanyar's ministrations provided a brief respite from them, as a cup filled with dark amber liquid was thrust in front of his face, bringing him back to the real world for a moment.

"Drink."

"What is that? The same vile thing you're been pouring down my throat for the past fortnight?" The prince eyed the cup with a frown, not given to an exceptionally good mood in his current situation.

"Sush, impertinent youngling."

"Of course, oh great healer." Vanyar mock- glared at him, then tipped the cup, forcing Legolas to drink the contents lest they spill on his chin and drip on the bed sheets. Perhaps the healer tipped it a little­ _too much, a gleeful smile playing on his face, for the young elf quite literally found himself up to his eyebrows in the bitter medicine. And no amount of glaring could wipe that silly smile off Vanyar's face._

_Laugh all you want you …you…silly little elf! _But despite those thoughts, meant to be handed on a platter with an impressive snort of indifference, the young elf found himself on the edge of tears. Again. And again he gritted his teeth until they ached, but that small pain was insignificant compared to the one he carried in his heart.

And it somehow grew heavier and harder to bear as time past. _Time heals all pain?_ Now he did snort, and glared at the darkening sky, fuelling all his strength into the anger that smoldered deep inside him. At least it kept him from thinking about…other things.

~*~*~

The sound of the door handle turning, and escaping from too-short little hands alerted Legolas of Estel's presence early next afternoon. This time, he proudly held a large brown feather in front of him.

"Look! Le-go-las!" His smile threatened to split his little face in two. "You said you couldn't go outside. So I brought you something from the gardens." Before the elf could emerge from his surprise at the little boy's thoughtfulness, Estel carefully deposited the feather into the first empty container he could find, which happened to be the tall cup the young elf had been drinking his medicines from. He trailed his little fingers along the soft edges of his present, obviously quite pleased with himself. "Do you think it's pretty?"

Legolas's mouth opened and closed a few times before any words came out. "Yes. It's very pretty Estel. Thank you."

The boy grinned, and amid his muddled thoughts, Legolas wondered how so young a child could make him feel so… cheerful and …unsettled at the same time. Well, perhaps not exactly cheerful, but it did make him stop feeling sorry for himself. At least for a little while. But as soon as he was alone, he knew he would be drawn back to his darker musings. There was no hope for him. _Vanyar_ had said so_. Even Lord Elrond had not found a cure for him. __Because there is no cure.__ They know it, but wish to keep me unaware of the truth, hoping it may keep me alive for a little longer. A wave of anger swept through the prince, as strong as his weary body could endure, but like everything else, it too was short lived, followed very quickly by an immense sense of loneliness, a void in the pit of his stomach that grew and grew. _

_And why can I feel pain and misery while physical feelings are denied to me? Is that fair? No. Nothing is fair. Life is not fair. _That thought brought him painfully close to tears again, and he blinked to prevent any such thing from happening. When the world came back into focus, Estel was sitting on a chair, his legs tucked underneath him, his big brown eyes looking at him curiously.

The elf sighed and breathed in deeply a few times before trusting to his voice, and even then it came out much weaker than he would have liked. "It must have come from a _very_ big bird." Well, perhaps this was not the best manner to start a conversation, but Estel didn't seem to mind, or notice. 

"Oh, it was _big_. _This big," and he proceeded in showing the elf just how big the bird was, stretching his hands as far apart as he could. "And it was so pretty too! Ada said it was a __hawk. I have never seen one before. And it fluffed its feathers, shaking _all over_" another demonstration followed "and dropped _all_ those little fluffy feathers, and this _big_ one! And when it flew off, I ran to pick it up. It was so __soft. Touch it, see how soft it is!" _

Touch it? Legolas would have snorted in disbelief if he was not so busy with the unexpected order and the sorrow it brought with it. Estel would decidedly keep on turning his world upside down, without being aware that he even did so. _Because he doesn't know.__ And it should stay that way. Yes, and how will you comply with what he is asking of you? A sarcastic voice spoke in his mind, seemingly displaying none of the weariness of his real voice. _Simply reach out from under the covers and stroke it?__

With the pain and the feeling of deep loss, mingled shock, insecurity and… and an emotion he could not understand. It all combined to make him feel very unbalanced. He did not know what to think anymore. He knew he did not want to stay like this, oh, yes, he knew that beyond a doubt. But he also knew that there was nothing he could do about it. It gave him a strange kind of pleasure to wallow in self pity, and bring himself down, and yet, he welcomed young Estel and the relief the child brought, with open arms. He was glad to smile and to forget about himself, even if for only a little while. 

It was in this uncertain state, balanced between accepting his fate and hurtling himself off an invisible edge that Lord Elrond found Legolas. He found something else too, or rather, a someone, in the presence of Estel. The expression on his face, however, remained carefully neutral, after the initial surprised glance at the young child. He had come to talk to the young prince, but had not expected to find the blond elf in such a state. He gave Estel another glimpse, and sighed, beckoning the child to him. The boy complied hastily, his little face set in worry and no little fear. Fear for what he may have done to Legolas, and fear at being discovered in this room.

"Legolas? I see you have met my son Estel?"

The question somehow brought Legolas out of his bewildered daze, and he managed a weak nod, looking at the elven Lord with eyes that still held some of his raging emotions.

"I suppose you may have been wondering how it was so, but such is a story for another time. Now, Estel," he continued, turning and kneeling to find himself at eye level with the boy. "No, you are not in trouble, and no I am not angry with you, but I want you to go to your room and wait for me there. Can you do that for me?" Some of the fear ebbed from the child's face and he tried a little smile. The tall elf smiled back encouragingly and ruffled his son's hair. The simple gesture was all it took to persuade young Estel that no, indeed, he was not in trouble, although he did not know why. He wasn't about to stay long enough to discover why, for his ada may change his mind, and then, he would have a _long_ talk, and a wagging finger, and his ada would be sad, and so would he and…and…

…and he left with a last, anxious look at his new friend, before slipping past the door and closing it with a soft click.  

~*~*~

Perhaps he should have had that chat with Estel right away, perhaps he should not have sent him so soon to his room…perhaps he should have watched the child's whereabouts more carefully, perhaps he should have done many things he never found himself doing. _And perhaps I am getting too old and my mind is wandering off…_ the Elf Lord thought with a chuckle. But his mirth was short lived as his eyes came to rest on the young prince. Of course, he had not expected to find him bouncing from joy on his bed, but neither had he expected the roiling emotions, plainly visible on Legolas's tired face. What had happened in this room? Was it something Estel had asked him? Elrond knew that the little mortal would not knowingly harm the elf, but…_but he is a child, and children are wont to speak whatever they please, unaware of the consequences such questions may bring._

He let a soft sigh escape him, the only concession to his own worries, and waited a moment for Legolas to at least find a resemblance of peace before coaxing him to speak about what had upset him so. And coax he did, word by word, as tensed and unhappy about this kind of proceedings as the one being interrogated. _But it is for the best. I have to know if ever I am to help him_, the older elf tried to excuse his actions.

_But what if he does _not _want to be helped? What…what if he wishes to depart against all your desperate grabbing and holding him back?_ _But…Thranduil…surely Legolas knows what this decision will cost his father…surely…he is too young to wish to leave! That persistent voice kept nagging the back of his mind. As painful as it was, he could not get rid of it, and tried all the harder to make Legolas talk._

~*~*~

Tears now rolled down his cheeks, unimpeded. It didn't matter anymore. His was too tired, to angry, and too lost to care. Nothing mattered except the pain. Pain cold not even describe exactly what he felt, for physical pain he could endure, but this? This tearing of his mind? This…this hole awaited his stumbling footsteps? This…

…_why doesn't he leave me alone!? I don't want to talk about it. I…I can't…_

Had he spoken it aloud, his voice would have broken on the last word. If he had a voice left.

But it didn't feel as if he had _anything left. No freedom, no archery, no limbs, no life… His mind could not even encompass his loss. The loss that Lord Elrond's "talk" had made painfully clear. The memories and thoughts he had shoved to the darkest corner of his mind were unearthed and brought into light, to be looked at and analyzed from every side. Things he had thought he really __had forgotten were remembered, things that became as new and that hurt as much as seconds-old sword blades cut. It hurt. It hurt so damn much, and still the Eldar went on, prodding his mind, no, letting _him_ do all the searching, despite his pleadings to stop. It felt as if he had spent the past year in a cave, deep under ground, with no light, desperately searching for the way out, knowing quite well that he would never find it. That he would perish in blindness and horrible silence. Alone._

As alone as he was now. 

Lord Elrond had silently left some time ago, unnoticed by the younger elf, who now lay utterly spent on his bed, barely able to roll his head away from the door. The pillow felt wet against his cheek, after absorbing what seemed like hours of wracked sobbing. He was even too tired to cry, or too numb to care, or both. And yet, sleep would not come, no matter how hard he willed it to do so. No, sleep did not come, nor did anyone else either. The sun sank behind the trees, dusk came and went, and the young elf's room was plunged into gloom. Finally, night came as well, and still no footsteps were heard outside his door. No voices asking to come in. No one.

Legolas's anger at the Elven Lord disappeared as well, as much because it cost too much of his strength to fuel the hungry dragon of rage, as because he suddenly felt very small, and very scared. The night seemed darker, and colder. The wind held none of its usually warm melody, and whistled hauntingly through the canopy of dark trees that swayed outside the open balcony. Warmth and sunlight seemed too far away to ever come back to this world. Never had Legolas felt so lonely and so vulnerable in his long life, even alone on scouting missions far, far away from home.

And then, an even colder and drearier feeling flittered through his mind.

_Is…is this what death is like?_

~*~*~

A/N~ yay! Fanfic works again! =) thanks for reviewing! 

-cheysuli- *grins* thanks. And I WILL use those ideas, after I'm done with the depression, the angst, the bad feelings… =)

-vuaryn- yep, she does =) glad you're still hanging one =)

-ophelia- no more rain, but no more school either! Well, rumors will have to stay rumors I'm afraid =)  (partly because I wasn't there at the time, and as gossipy as Mirkwood is, it's also very tight lipped when dealing with strangers. *sigh*)

-eck- homework. Ah, yes. That evil thing =) hope you give it a good kick in the backside! =)

-crazygirly- aiii! No, wait, don't say anything. Nope, he's not here, and I'm not sure he'll be there in the next one either. Very sorry. But he WILL be back! I swear…just hold on a few…weeks *grins sheepishly and slowly backs away, eying the door* =). Loved your review by the way! "the grandfather of all cookies" lol. *grins*

-lady of dreams- hee hee. Lol. Yes, that's what I meant. Will have to go back and fix that. Thanks for pointing it out! 


	8. part 8 Storms and stars

~ To start anew ~

by Ola

~*~*~

A/N~ Aii! Really really sorry! Why do I always have to be late? It seems that having vacations doesn't really give me more free time. *sigh* hope you'll forgive me. The next few chapters are already written though, so they should come up quite quickly (The beginning of this one was inserted later on, because of little Estel barging in =) so here it is. Hope you enjoy =)

~*~*~

Part 8~ Storms and stars

_I should not have pushed him so. I should have given him more time. I should have asked Thranduil to be there with him. _The Lord of Imladris let out a sigh that spoke of how worried and unsure of his actions he was, even if the hectic pacing in his new quarters hadn't been enough of a clue. But Legolas was a puzzle to him. Never before had he seen and cared for a paralyzed elf, and frankly, he didn't know _what to do. __Yes, yes, the great_ and _all powerful_ healer of Rivendell is out of his depth,_ the elder thought, sarcasm heavy in his mind voice, and no little worry because of how much truth this quip held. Finally, he forced himself to sit down, and dropped his head into his hands. _

_He knows the truth, about himself, about the future, about his choices. But they may not be choices he cares to make. However, he is the only one who _can_ decide. As much as Thranduil, Vanyar or I wish him to stay, we can do little to sway him. Oh Eru, it is hard to let one so young go. _

_Think how hard this must be on Thranduil. He will not survive his son's departure. _

This knowledge was one more heavy weight on Lord Elrond's shoulders. What he had told himself as a sardonic comment was quite true. He _was out of his depth. He had done all he could, physically, to heal the young prince. He had read about that last medicine he had given Legolas, but had never actually used it on a patient before, which was not his usual method. He _never_ gave someone a brew he had not researched heavily or tasted beforehand unless it was a dire emergency indeed. This was surely such an emergency, and yet, he did not feel comfortable doing such a thing. _

_Pfaa__, this is not about comfort. It is about the youngling's life!_

This indecision and self analysis was not helping at all! _Really?__ Then why, in the name of Elbereth, did you ask Legolas to do exactly that? Find his center?_

_I simply laid the cards before him, and helped him turn them around, right face up. He is fully capable to play his life as he sees fit. But he needed to face his memories and his past. He could not go on living with that burden weighing him down._

_Here it goes again. He could not "live." This is why you confronted him. You do not wish him to let his life go._

_No! I do not! _The Elven Lord felt anger slowly rising to the fore. _No! I do not wish him to depart Middle Earth. Is that wrong of me? The choice is his, whatever I may do or tell him! But I will_ do everything in my power to keep him here as long as I can!_ He swiftly turned toward the open window, finding no peace in the trees that swayed an arm length away. His anger did recede though, to leave him shaking with weakness, both physical and psychological. ___

_Oh Eru, why must it be so hard to help our loved ones? Why must we hurt them so to help them survive?_

There was no answer for him. Only the whistling of the wind, growing ever stronger in the waning afternoon. 

~*~*~

The child sat primly on his bed, his feet tucked underneath him, his hands clasped together on his lap. Lord Elrond froze in the doorway, the image of his son lying on a bed, unmoving and pale, filtering briefly behind his eyelids. _Dear Eru. It could have been him. It could have been Estel, or Arwen, or the twins, lying there, on that bed…_The thought wrenched his heart, and he shuddered, unable to put away the hand of fear that closed around his chest, preventing him from breathing. _Eru__…_

"Ada?" He looked down as he felt the child tugging on his sleeve, looking up at him with eyes wide with incomprehension and worry. "I'm sorry Ada, I didn't mean to make you angry…I…I just wanted to make Le-go-las happy. You said he was sad. I don't want him to be sad ada. Ada?..." The Elven Lord kneeled down and wrapped his youngest son in arms that shook. "I'm not angry with you Estel," he murmured into the child's hair. "I'm proud of you little one. And I love you so much Estel. Oh Eru…" He couldn't stop a tear form sliding down his cheek. He quickly wiped it away, trying to regain a semblance of calm, while Estel waited patiently, hugging his ada. 

He didn't understand why his ada was crying. He didn't know why everyone was sad. Was it something he had done? But ada said he wasn't angry. So what was it? He missed Elladan and Elrohir. He missed Arwen too, and her good-night stories. He missed seeing his ada smile. He tried very hard to be brave but a little tear slide down his face as well. He sniffled to keep his nose from running, and gripped his ada as hard as he could, hoping he would be happy again soon.

The sniffle and the sight of little Estel with teary eyes finally brought the Lord of Imladris out of his fog of sorrow. "I'm sorry Estel. I'm so sorry for making you cry little one." He reproached himself for falling apart like that before his son. He should have calmed down before venturing into Estel's room. _One mistake piling on another._  He carefully dried the child's tears with whatever he could put his hand on first –which happened to be his sleeve-. "I never meant to make you sad." His smile grew upon seeing his son's face free of the shadows of misery. He sent Eru a prayer of thanks for granting him Estel, got up taking the child's hand in his own warm one, and promising himself to make it up to him somehow. _Anyhow. But he could not bear to see Estel cry and unhappy._

Only then did he realize why it had hurt so much to talk to Legolas, and to tear from him the answer to his past. Because it hurt to harm the ones he loved. Legolas, Thranduil…both suffered, and he could not simply stand by, and wait for fate to bring some kindness into the world. That is why he became a healer. To stop the hurting and smooth the pain. A memory of his own flashed through his mind. It had been a day like any other in Rivendell when he had knocked on his father's door, then slipped inside like only an elfling could, and announced with all confidence that he wished to become a healer. His father had been overjoyed and had taken him into his arms, like he had not done for a long time. He remembered the feeling of pride and happiness, and how in turn, it made _him incredibly glad. _

Just as quickly as it had come, the memory was replaced by another, as the clouds darkened and rumbled with distant thunder. A haunting melody hang in the air like mist, enveloping everyone in a blanket of grief and sorrow. The late Lord of Imladris had perished. Elrond had been a youngling then, and the pain had been unbearable. He berated himself for being unable to help; for letting him slip between his fingers like water. It had gnawed at his heart night and day, never letting go, and leaving him a wreath of his former self. Only one more time did he suffer such a loss, at the departure of his dear wife. It hadn't hurt any less for knowing what it was. If anything, the pain had doubled as time passed.

He stifled the sob of pain as he was wrenched into the present, and clutched Estel's hand in his. Yes, he now understood why he tried so hard to keep Legolas in Middle Earth. He understood.

But he also knew he should let him fly loose, just like he had done with his own father and his wife, no matter how much it hurt.

~*~*~

The curtains barely moved in the heavy air. The sky had darkened early, the gloomy clouds growing in size and strength. The room was stifling hot, but so was every other part of the palace, and no coolness would be found outside. Legolas was lying on his bed, carefully avoiding looking at the feather, which was now propped up by a new, _clean, cup. So he stared at the open balcony and the rectangle of dark blue sky and darker branches of the trees. He, and every other elf in Mirkwood, waited impatiently for the storm to break, for even a hint of cool air to caress their face. The tension was palpable, and even the forest animals stood a silent vigil. Waiting. All waiting._

When the first lightning flashed through the sky, accompanied by the roar of thunder, the elven prince almost leapt out of his skin. The wind picked up, tearing at the soft fabric that hung from the windows, and a blissful coolness invaded the room.

Rain hammered on the roof and clicked against the rail of the balcony. The wind, after the initial blast, subsided, and the warmth returned. And Legolas continued to brood. He did not particularly want to feel proud and courageous and sensible at the moment. The weather was all too similar to his mood, and he wallowed in self-pity, taking a twisted satisfaction from his scrambled emotions. The longer the storm lasted, the warmer his face became, and the angrier he was. He had no particular wish to stop moping. He _wanted_ to feel bad, and remember; to feel himself frown at the heavens, to rile at the gods. He could not forget Lord Elrond's words. Their harshness had cut deeply into his heart, as he had plunged into darkness to replay that horrendous day in his mind. He saw it even now, as afterimages much like the ones left burning on his eyelids after a lightning bolt. And he looked at them, not even trying to chase the misery away. He felt terrible; and he welcomed that feeling, plunging deeper and deeper into the darkness…

Another thunder resounded in a momentary lull, striking a nearby tree. Light exploded in his eyes, and Legolas instinctively wrenched himself away from the open window…and fell to the floor. His surprise and shock quite surpassed the hurt of his shoulder encountering the hard wooden floorboards. He blinked owlishly in the dark, looking up at his bed without understanding. When realization struck him, he wondered whether lightning strikes felt the same. A strange new light entered his eyes. He ground his teeth and painstakingly moved toward the window, shrugging his shoulders and wriggling at best he could, a thumb length at a time. 

_And curse fate for making me fall on the _other_ side of the bed. The side away from the window. _Aii_ Elbereth. _His breath came in ragged and quick. _Please make it work. _

He stopped several times to recuperate the little strength he possessed, but his initial determination would not leave and after what felt like an entire age, the young prince dragged himself to the edge of the balcony, and simply lay where he was, panting and seeing stars. 

_Stars in a storm.__ Dear Eru. I knew I was mad._ He chuckled, no more than a ghostly shadow of the usual, quiet laugh. Cold raindrops fell on his face, driven into the room by the wind. The musty smell of soil, the sound of rain striking leaves and stone, the feel of the wind sweeping sweat sodden hair out of his eyes. Sometime during that night, he realized how much he had missed being a part of the forest. To be free to run under the trees, and swim in chilly lakes. To feel the sun upon his face and look at the stars' eternal revolutions. To taste the snow on his tongue and the lush grass tickling his feet. All those things and more. And as unthinkable for him now as flight to a horse. His tears mingled with the rain. Salt and sweet. Unless…

_Unless…I live.___

Long he lay on the cool floor, sprawled as if asleep but for the look in his eyes. His eyes...focused on the few stars visible in between the thinning clouds, blown away by the wind. Cool air slowly replaced the warmth of the evening as more stars twinkled in and out of the hazy veils of the heavens. An owl hooted welcome to the calming elements, the low sound unheard by the young elf, too deep in his thoughts. 

The stars waltzed in the sky,

                        The wind softly blew,

                        Darkness lost its sharp edge, as twilight softened the world,

                                                                        And the young elf let his hold on consciousness slip away. 

~*~*~

A/N~ I had written a little more in this chapter, but finally decided to attach that part to the next chapter because this ending is much better. Hope you don't mind too much =)

This chapter was used to –hopefully- put Lord Elrond in a better light. Poor elf, he is trying very hard to do what he thinks is best, but it isn't always working…

No comments today. I'm sorry, but I don't have much time as it is, and I'm trying to post this as quickly as I can before something else comes up that will postpone the story. But I really DO appreciate all your reviews. I am grateful that you take the time to drop a note, and hope you'll continue to do so.

~Ola~


	9. part 9 From wakefulness to deeper sleep

~ To start anew ~

by Ola

~*~*~

A/N~ Thranduil's back! Dedicated to crazygirly for this very reason. Hope everyone enjoys!

~*~*~

Part 9~ From wakefulness to deeper sleep

Legolas awoke to the sound of a gasp, and as consciousness returned, so did eye sight, and with it the image of a dumb-stricken elven healer looking at the empty bed. The younger elf chuckled, and then laughed as Vanyar pivoted on his heels toward the sound, his eyes growing very big and very round.

"Close your mouth Vanyar, you would make a frog envious. Good thing the rain washed away all the flies."

The healer's mouth snapped shut, but he continued looking at his young friend as if waiting for something. Something that came sooner that he would have expected, as the prince's face grew thoughtful for a moment before he said, "I want to walk again." His voice was strong, belying his present physical condition; and it was determined as well. 

Healer Vanyar heaved a silent sigh of relief, and a terrible weight lifted from his shoulders, a weight he had been unaware of until it was gone. It felt like sun on his face after a week of gloomy clouds and rain. And for the first time since Legolas was brought to his care, he smiled; a real smile that reached his eyes and shone through them with brotherly love, encouragement, and pride.

"I am very glad you do Legolas." 

A matching smile appeared on the younger elf's face, just as the sun rose from behind the horizon and touched the golden elf's brow with a gentle kiss of true joy. But the smile and the joy were short lived. 

~*~*~

The young elf coughed, struggling to turn to his side to ease his suddenly ragged breathing. Vanyar was at his side in a heartbeat, his loud voice greatly contrasting with the gentle way he helped the young elf to sit up.

"Legolas! You're soaking through! How long have you been lying here?" before the prince could answer, the healer whisked him of to bed, changed his soaping shirt, toweled his hair as dry as he could, and buried him under an avalanche of blankets. A faint murmur was the only answer Vanyar received for a long time. Then another bout of cough interrupted the mumbling.

"Aii, youngling. What have you done to yourself? Have you slept at all this night? Did…"

"Vanyar. Stop fretting so. Being a healer, you should be quite well aware that stress is harmful to both the body and mind. I am well. As well as can be under the circumstances in any case, thus…"

"Well? _Well!?_ And do _not_ patronize me youngling. If someone has anything to say in the matter of healing, it is I, and as such, I am telling you that you are _not_ well." The scolding was quite ruined by the chuckle that could not be kept behind the healer's lips, even though hard he tried to keep it there. The youngster needed a reprimand! A sigh followed the admonishment. 

"Then pray tell, what is wrong with me? And please do take some of those blankets away unless you wish to smother me." Legolas was enjoying this too much to let the older elf's face deter him in any way.

"You are coughing." The prince could not help rolling his eyes at the answer, childish though it was. But despite the youth's cheery demeanor –a stark change from his earlier gloomy days- a worried frown creased the healer's brow as he placed the inside of his wrist against Legolas' temple. "_And_ you are running a fever. Pray Eru it is nothing dire."

In the end, no amount of heat and hope could keep the illness at bay, and during the night, Legolas' fever rose dramatically while his coughing continued to painfully shake his body. His swollen throat refused to let much of anything pass down into his stomach, and Vanyar began to seriously worry, for the youngling had lost much blood and energy in the past few days already.

_And just as I was hopping for a quick recovery, here he plunges into darkness again. Aii, youngling. You never failed to try my patience. _Vanyar chuckled, but he could not find much humor in anything that night. Nor the following ones. Legolas' condition slowly grew worse, and the prince slowly grew weaker. The healer watched on, unable to help the young prince, his distress growing as medication upon medication failed to produce any kind of reaction on the slipping form. 

~*~*~

"How is he?" The door closed with a soft click, as Lord Elrond walked into the room and sat on the edge of a table, all the other furnitures being already occupied –the chair by healer Vanyar and the edge of the bed by King Thranduil-.

"Although his condition has stabilized, he is still very ill. The fever has not yet broken, and he continues to cough, even in sleep." The young prince did indeed look very ill. His naturally pale face was snowy white even while his body fought with the high temperature ravaging his body, his skin was waxy and drawn over too-preeminent cheekbones. Sweat matted his flaxen hair, and the body that lay under the blankets was too thin. A permanent crease of pain marred the fair prince's brow, in sleep as in wakefulness, although the latter came with increased ache and delirious hallucinations.

"Elrond, can you do naught for him?" The Elven King's voice was strained and broke as his gaze shifted back to the body of his son. "Give him drugs to relieve the pain?"

Rivendell's Lord approached the bed and changed the cloth lying on the prince's brow; it had grown warm far too quickly for his peace of mind. He checked his pulse and breathing before replying. "I fear to give him any more than I already have. What I have given him last was morphine."

"Elrond!"

"Calm down Vanyar. His body is burning it down at a respectable rate, although the same dose would have sent any other elf into a week-long sleep. But I dare not give him more in fear his body grows addicted to the medicine."

"Why is this happening?" King Thranduil's calm finally cracked. "Why does a simple chill wrestles with his body so? Why can he not resurface from under the cloud of fog and hallucinations that plague his mind? Why?" He could not hide the haunted look from his eyes as he glanced at Lord Elrond, extending his hand in entreaty. 

"His previous wounds and trauma weakened his body too much for it to fight against the fever. No medication can supply him with the strength that only time and nourishment can. I did what I could, although little that seems even to me. The medications blunted his pain, hopefully easing his mind and letting his body rest from the torment, although as you saw, even a dangerous doze did not keep delirium at bay. There is naught we can do now but wait, as frustrating as that may seem. I would advise you to take some rest Thranduil," he raised a hand to forestall any comment. "But I know you too well old friend, and even though I should order you outside, I know, as only a father can, that you will have no respite until Legolas awakens." At this, he came again to the bed and placed a hand on the King's shoulder, unable to let a weary sigh escape him. "Do not worry so my friend. Your son is a strong elfling; he will prevail."

A silence descended on the room, as often it had in the previous days, while each occupant grew engaged with his own thoughts. The light changed imperceptibly, as minutes turned into hours, and still, no one left, until a low, prolonged grumbling broke the calm. A faint blush crept onto Healer Vanyar's cheeks, as he dipped his head and left the room, excusing himself, with a last speculative look at his charge, and a longer, thoughtful one at his liege. Soon after, Lord Elrond rose and departed as well after ensuring that the young elf's condition had not changed, leaving Thranduil alone with his son at last.

~*~*~

"Sunshine?" Thranduil's voice sounded unnaturally loud in the still room. Loud and hoarse. He made himself a little more comfortable on the bed without letting go of Legolas' hand or looking away from his face. That face, it frightened him as not much ever had. So full of ache, and so …mournful. A painful lump formed in the king's throat, and anger rose to batter it down. Anger at himself for letting his son run messages in such dire times and anger at his impotence. He could rile at the gods for the rest of his life, but he sorely doubted they would heed his pleas. 

For a moment, he turned his head away, clenching his fist on the edge of the blanket before he sighed and smoothed it out again, then transferred the action to his son's golden hair. 

_Sunshine. Do not let the pain take you away from me. I…as…_

He stopped in mid-thought before it occurred to him that Legolas might be soothed by his voice, and began aloud what was first on his mind. "Sunshine. Do not let the pain take you away from me. It may sound selfish that I ask this of you. And I know it is but…you are the only one I have left. There is naught but you and me…until a maiden comes to steal your heart from me, which I would only too gladly give away to one worthy of your love." A small smile tugged at Thranduil's lips, although it did not reach his eyes. "But if you leave Middle-Earth, I am bound to follow after you. I know that I should not be telling you this. Nothing should be your concern except healing, and yet, I cannot stop myself from uttering those words, in the faint hope that you hear me, and that perhaps… perhaps you will feel guilty enough to awaken before you even think of leaving. Such thoughts should tell you how much I love you sunshine. And I _do_ love you. Never you forget that. I love you so much that nothing I will ever say will be enough, and nothing I will ever do will be enough." A heavy sigh escaped, unimpeded. "It would break my heart if you left. Even thought my heart would not understand, my mind would. I promise not to keep you here against your will…I… ….I will give you my blessing, what ever your choice may be, although I cannot speak for my heart. I…You know me sunshine." Another sigh and a bitter smile.

"Aye, and Elrond knows me as well, but I seem to have forgotten _you_ dear child. You would have been the first to tell–no, to _order-_ me to leave my brooding alone, had you been awake. You do not like pity. You do not like anyone fretting over you. Yes, if only you were awake. But you are not." 

"Aii, Sunshine, come back to me. I miss your smile already." His voice suddenly broke, and a wave of anguish washed over him. 

_No! I will not break down! I _cannot_! I will see this through. _We _will see this through Sunshine. You and me. Like we always do. Together. _

"You and me. Together." His voice was a mere whisper. His lungs suddenly failed to breathe in as he stared at his son's face. Had he imagined it? Had desperation so strong a hold on his mind? Could it be? Was…

_Dear Eru! Is this a wicked trick to deceive my eyes and my heart?_

Eru did not answer, but Legolas' eyelid twitched again. Air rushed into the king's lungs, as a wave of dizzy hope washed through him. 

"Sunshine? Can you hear me?" In his blind groping for that hope, the thought that this little movement might only have been a subconscious reflex did not even enter his mind. There was no thought other than to continue talking. He could not risk _not_ doing so in the chance this may have been what had caused the reaction. And thus King Thranduil persisted in talking, and in holding Legolas' hand, only once getting up to quickly drink a glass of water. He persisted even though the room lost its colors and evening made place for night, plunging the room into darkness –but he dared not stop to light a candle-. He persisted even though his weary body clamored for rest. He persisted even though his parched throat refused to give rise to any sound other than a raspy croak. 

~*~*~

A/N~ Anyone realized where I got this idea from? *grins* Fans of Mercedes Lackey will probably know, so this is a disclaimer as well (I borrowed some of her ideas here.)

-gwyr- I'm very flattered. Thank you!! 

-angel of death- probably not updated as soon as you would have liked, eh? sorry *sheepish grin*

-vuaryun- then, when you come back, you'll have more to read *grin* =)

-crazygirly- a cookie for Elrond? Mmm *wheels turning in head, then quickly typing something in* yes!! =) as always, I love your review. Lol. And what did you think of Thranduil, eh? I hope you noticed he's back! Lol. More of him in next chapter too… =)

-chaysuli- that's the way he feels too. Kind of not really knowing what he's getting into… =)

only comments for chapter 8. really sorry about everyone else. I really DO appreciate your reviews/comments. I read them ALL (well, there aren't that much of them *grins*) and they make my day. I hope you're still hanging on!


	10. part 10 Porridge and names

~ To start anew ~

by Ola

~*~*~

A/N~ chapter 10!! Tadammm!! *drum roll*  I am really sorry for the delay. Really busy right now. No comments to reviews, although I dearly love them all! I'm glad you take a little time to review, it shows me that you care =) lol. Like last chapter, this has a little "Mercedes Lackey idea" =) hope no one minds. A little humor as well, but I'm getting ahead of myself. So just read and review! =) 

*I tried posting this for the past week, but fanfiction.net didn't want to accept it for some reason. Computer problems. Arrgg!!! Trying again, and crossing my fingers it works!!

~*~*~

Part 10~ Porridge and names

He had not meant to fall asleep. Dear god. No. But he did. And it was a soft sound that woke him up. The sound of the faintest of whispers and the crinkling of bed sheets.

"I heard you… I heard you …ada… I was just …too weary …to respond." The whisper was the ghost of a voice, barely loud enough for even en elf to hear, and yet, King Thranduil's eyes flew open at this sound, while his heart threatened to break out of his chest.

"Ssshh, speak no more sunshine. Rest." A moist shimmer spread through his eyes, and a tremulous smile through his lips. He opened his mouth, then closed it again, absentmindedly smoothing the white sheets near his son's limp hand. Legolas eyes him quizzically. 

_He is nervous. He wants to tell me something, and yet is unsure whether it is the right time. Perhaps he awaits my recovery…to then broach a hurtful subject? _The young elf almost gasped as a thought came to him. _He wishes me to leave the messengers of the crown, for he cannot face to see me in danger again!! And he is uncertain as to how to ask it delicately. No, how to _order_ me, for once he decides something, no amount of pleading or force will change his mind. _A moment later, a cold wave of reality washed over him, and his thoughts turned bitter, self-loathing, and utterly flat. _Of course I will leave. With or without his order. Much good I would do! A crippled messenger! Unable to walk down to the privy by myself, how can I dream to dispatch missives across half Middle-Earth?!_

_You promised. _A soft, but insistent voice spoke calmly in his mind. _You promised Vanyar you would learn. You promised _yourself_ you would live. How then are you reaching toward that goal by mopping the floor with your face? Have you no wish to see the cool hand of Lady Winter caress the Nimrodel? Have you no wish to walk on the moonlit plains of Rohan and gaze at the Maeras? …     …Have you? _

A keen longing pierced his heart, more painful than the arrow that had pierced his back. And he knew –oh how he knew- that he would fight past the moment the last of his strength ebbed out of his body, past the moment nothing more than his will remained, past all agony and humiliation, past words and feelings. And he would succeed. Or die trying.

_And that would ruin the whole point of the fight._ A small smile crept on his face like a hungry feline creeping up on its pray. _But I am a warrior. I will fight until I can fight no more._ And he knew that nothing would shake his resolve away.

The young prince's eyes settled on his father's face, and for the first time he took notice of the deep furrows on his brow, the darkness of his eyes, and the worried set of his mouth. His entire body spoke of tension, pain, fatigue, and grief. And a new realization swept through Legolas._ He does not know._ _He still holds the belief, painful though it may be, that I may wish to let myself fade away. Oh father…_ love filled his heart as he remembered his father's words, dizzy with pain and drugs though he had been at the time. _"I will give you my blessing, what ever your choice may be."_ A lump rose into his throat, and threatened to stop the words that just _had_ to be spoken. _Now!_

"Ada." Had he thoughts enough to spare, Legolas would have cursed his body's weakness and inability to utter anything beyond a mere whisper. And yet, he had to content himself with what he did have. Because he did not have much.

"Sunshine." His father, however, decided to speak at the same time, drowning his son's word with his louder one.

If ever Legolas wished to regain the ability to move, it was now. Oh, yes. How he wished to sit up and take his father's shoulders in his arms to gently shake some sense into him. But that w…

"I…It may be the wrong subject to talk about at this moment but…I wish you to know…you…" his sigh mingled with the cool evening breeze. "Should you decide that your time upon Middle Earth has come to an end…should you wish to sail to the land of our forefathers…I will not endeavor to hold you back here against your will. And…I… I shall speak no more of it unless you should wish to." His voice threatened to break at any time, and his eyes shone with tears that were held back by sheer willpower. And yet, his gaze never wavered from his son's, even though all he read there was pain and distress.

"Ada. No. I…"

_Curse this body for being so weak! Curse the gods! Would you take even my _voice_ away!?_

"I am going nowhere ada." He rushed it all out before anything else stopped him from speaking his thoughts. "Not to Valinor, not to the Halls of Mandos… nowhere…unless it is to the kitchens for a snack…and that might take a while yet." His strength spent –_Eru__! After so little, already so tired!?­- _he poured his feelings of life, bittersweet happiness, hope, and the ghost of pain into the gaze he sent his father. 

A smile crept on his lips, and it grew and grew, until his shoulders shook with silent giggles, and his laughter finally bubbled out into the silent room. _Ada__ dear, I wish Vanyar or Lord Elrond were here to look upon your face. It is a sight to behold. Never have I seen you so … 'stupefied'…is the only word that comes to mind._ _Should mother appear out of thin air into this very room, you would look no more surprised or ecstatic. …And very glad I am to be the reason of such happiness after I caused you so much pain. _

And then, Legolas had no more time to think, as the king swept him up into his arms and hugged him tightly to his chest, while his tears finally spilled, and his emotions forced to the fore like rushing waters behind a broken dam. Both were unbelievably strong and not altogether expected. 

_Well, they should have been. Oh ada…I'm sorry. I'm so sorry for making you sad. I love you so much…_

They clung to each other like shipwrecked sailors to a piece of wood, while the storm of their emotions ragged around them. They had tried to be brave, to keep their feelings hidden for the sake of each other, and now, it all came bubbling up, raw and painful, but bringing with it an immense relief as well. The worse was over. Nothing else could be as bad as those past few days…could it?

Legolas pressed his head against his father's chest, feeling like a little elfling frightened by a thunderstorm. But he didn't mind in the least. It felt wonderfully comfortable there; he felt safe, and happy again. His father had always clearly showed his feelings for his son, the good as well as the occasional bad ones. And yet, as all children do, Legolas had grown, and the hugs had turned into affectionate hand claspings. They knew each other so well that a look sufficed to convey what hundreds of words could not. But now…now something was missing…

"Ada? … could I give you a hug?" The young elf's whisper trembled as he waited, unconsciously holding his breath. He heard a strangled chock, which reminded him to breathe as well. And then he felt strong, callused hands gently move his own arms over his father's neck, while his face moved up to rest next to his ada's. They held each other until their heartbeats resumed their normal pacings, until their tears dried and smiles of happiness creped up their faces, until the young prince fell into blissful sleep. And much, much longer.

Perhaps life wasn't so bad after all.

~*~*~

Legolas woke as the world shifted underneath him. His eyes focused just as king Thranduil was tucking him, firmly pressing warm blankets on him. He smiled, still somewhat hazy with sleep, and beamed at the answering smile of his father. Just then, Healer Vanyar and Lord Elrond made an appearance, a smile no smaller than Thranduil's blooming on their face as their eyes fell on their little patient. 

"You're awake." The prince rolled his eyes, but refrained from speaking until Vanyar administered him another of his infamous brews.

"You evil healer. Are all healers so wicked, or had I the misfortune on meeting two of the most malevolent?" he quipped after a sip of his medicine. Vanyar's eyes twinkled as he replied.

"You are getting you due, you little scamp. If I am the evilest of healers, you are the most impossible of patients!" He sighed dramatically, but Lord Elrond paled slightly at the prince's words, and to his consternation, left soon after. Legolas followed him with worried eyes, fearing that he may have slighted the Eldar. 

_But this is not the first time I have teased him. He knows me well, and never restrained himself from using his wits and quick tongue. But now? Is it because…because of…_ A disturbing though occurred to him, one that he never thought would happen. But if his premonitions were true…Unfortunately, or maybe not so, his attention was soon drawn away from the Lord of Imladris, and centered on problems of his own.

~*~*~

"I'm not hungry." He scowled while his arms itched to be crossed in a petulant attempt to show his unhappiness with the present situation.

"Eat. I'll not repeat myself." His father's voice was calm. _Too_ calm. Legolas knew his father well enough to hear the danger behind the words. But that didn't mean he would give in. If his father was stubborn, then so could he be, just as stubborn, and more so if need be. He wasn't his father's son for naught. 

They glared at each other, the king holding a spoon full of porridge, the prince with his mouth closed as tightly as possible. They glared, and willed the other to give up first, for it was sincerely becoming tiresome. At least to Mirkwood's king. Why, of all his traits, did his son inherit his stubbornness as well? He didn't sigh, although he dearly wished to do so. It would only mean defeat, and he was not ready to capitulate yet. Legolas was too thin for his peace of mind, and too weak. He had not fought those past few days to keep his son from death's grip to now lead him there willingly. 

_The more he pushes, the more I'll balk,_ Legolas thought with a scowl. He loved his father, but there were times during which he had less than positive thoughts about him. _Like now.__   …This is the only way I can fight. Without the use of my arms and legs, I will have to use my mind. And as childish as this may seem, going against his orders is fascinating. His face becomes so intent…and his voice looses all inflections…it really seems as if he becomes another elf altogether during such times. I wonder if t…_

"Legolas Greenleaf. You are wearing my patience."

_Aii__! Why is it that one feels dread when one's parent speaks his child's full names? 'Tis strange, for should not our names bring us honor and respect? He is truly angry now. I wonder how much more I can balk before he looses his wits? A little part of his mind was deadly curious. He had never before tried to go this far against his father; it was… captivating –in a morbid way-… and frightening a little as well. _

Did he dare…?

He did.

The corner of his lips lifted in an unmistakable smirk, gauding his father into further action, while another part of him wondered if that was wise.

It most definitely was not.

"EAT!" The loud commend made his ears ring, as his whole body twitched. And in the next instant, while his mind was still recuperating from this new development of the events, he found the aforementioned spoon and porridge firmly wedged into his mouth. He couldn't even glare at his father, busy as he was with trying not to chock. And when he did direct his gaze on his parent, he scowled and thought that no father should feel that pleased at having just shoved porridge down his unwilling son's throat. He was…he was _gloating! And looking unbearably smug._

_He is looking exactly the way I would, had I done the same thing to _him! The young elf realized with somewhat of a surprise, which elicited a chuckle, then a little giggle, and then an out right laugh. It felt good to laugh. It felt good to be happy about something as silly as porridge. And it felt even better when his father joined him.

~*~*~


	11. part 11 Evil healers

~ To start anew ~

by Ola

~*~*~

A/N~ It's hot. Damn. It's. HOT!!! Jeez. A freaking furnace. And no air conditioning in my room. I'm gonna die. Okay, okay, now that I'm done with the complaining, I'll jump right into the "I'm so sorry phase." So sorry to make you wait so long, so sorry to make it less longer than the last chapter. *sigh*

So here is the next chapter, for anyone who's still reading, and haven't simply drifted off from lack of updates. *sigh again*

~*~*~

Part 11~ Evil healers

"So who out-willed, out-stubborned, and out-glared whom?" Healer Vanyar stuck his head into Legolas's room, before the rest of him followed soon after, seeing that the 'war' was over and it was safe to enter the battleground.

Two pairs of blue-gray eyes swiveled to look at him, and he quickly raised his hands in surrender. One of those two elves was bad enough when provoked. But two? Together? That was asking for trouble. Major trouble. Even if it was mock-trouble. The healer grinned, remembering the countless times either the son or the father were his patient. _Yes, those two are most definitely related!_

"Stalemate then?" he hazarded when no answer was forthcoming. A few moments of silence later, he shrugged. 

"So, how is my patient faring this fine spring morning?"

"Better."

The king snorted, and his son glowered at him before he rolled his eyes and shrugged as well. 

"I've been better Vanyar, but it's not as bad as…before." The young prince seemed to turn his look inward for a moment, as if perceiving his past. What he found there was not much to his liking, for he returned to the present with a look of melancholy on his fair face, even as he smiled reassuringly at the two older elves.

"What can I do, besides drinking your evil brews I mean, to speed up the recovery?" Legolas quickly changed the subject, and his father pounced on this opportunity.

"You have to eat more. How wish you to regain your strength if you refuse to nourish your body?" the king's voice held no small amount of concern for the welfare of his offspring and Vanyar nodded, raising a hand to forestall any comment from the prince.

"No, hear me out youngling. Your father is right. You do have to eat in order to replenish the energy you lost. It will not appear out of thin air. Believe me when I tell you that I do w how hard it is to force yourself to eat while your stomach flips upside down at the very thought of food. But it is important for you to do it. The more you will eat, the easier it will be. But I fear that I cannot help you make the first step. No medicine will give you a heartier appetite; it unfortunately does not work that way. You can do nothing more before you regain at least a little of your strength back because at this moment, anything you would gain by exercising, you would automatically loose by weakening your body even further."

"I will try, although …" Legolas sighed, but did not finish his thought. 

"That is all I ask."

King Thranduil then squeezed his son's shoulder and rose. "I will see you this evening sunshine. Take heart. All will be well." And with a final encouraging smile, he left the room to make his way into the council room, for the illness of his son had neither slowed petitioners from coming to see their kings nor destroyed the small bands of orcs lurking at the edge of Mirkwood. The world kept on turning, paying no heed to the beings that lived on it.

~*~*~

Alone in the room with Vanyar, Legolas fell into silence, while the healer busied himself with preparing some medicine. Finally, he seemed to come to a certain decision, and spoke.

"Vanyar?" 

"Yes youngling?"

"Has it ever bothered you when I…when I tease you and…make life difficult for you?" there was a strange note to his voice as if he was unsure of himself and half afraid of the answer.

"Now you ask me?" The healer said incredulously. "Youngling, I do not know _what_ on Middle-Earth has made you ask me such a silly question. You are like a little brother to me, and I enjoy your taunting as much as I enjoy teasing you myself. I am very fond of you youngling, even during your…ah…more difficult temperaments." He flashed his teeth in an infectious grin that soon spread to the 'youngling' in question. 

But as soon as Vanyar left on other errands, after having fed him a little more, Legolas returned to his previous thoughts and to the person who had prompted them. Lord Elrond. _Why did he leave so suddenly this morning? Vanyar and father didn't seem to take anything amiss. What was it I said? Ah… "you evil healer." But it was a jest. Surely he did not take this seriously! This was not the first time I spoke such things, and never before had he taken offense. _

Legolas stared out the window without seeing anything. He was too preoccupied with his own thoughts, and they wouldn't leave him alone until he found an answer that would hold true.

_Surely he does not blame himself for…asking me all those questions a few days ago…It was certainly not _pleasant_ in any way, but I understand now why he acted as he did. I was ready to strangle him then, had I only had the strength, or simply leave to the Halls of Mandos right there and then to stop him from tormenting me so. But now…Eru knows whether I would have made the same decisions had he not come to me that day. Perhaps I would still be laying in bed while those memories ate at my mind and refused to let me be in peace. Well, I _still_ am in bed, but at least on the road to recovery, whatever that word may mean, concerning me. _

_But what if he does?_

_And what thinks he now that I called him an "evil healer"? Aii…_

~*~*~

Legolas vowed to talk to the Lord of Imladris, and draw the misunderstanding into the light. But as the days rolled by, he could not broach the subject. Not because he felt uncertain and unready, but because he could not catch the Eldar alone. Every time he came to see the prince, Lord Elrond was either accompanied by healer Vanyar or King Thranduil, and Legolas did not wish to raise their suspicion or to embarrass the Eldar in their presence. That would be no manner of an apology if it then required another to fix the new problem. 

But the way Lord Elrond slipped out whenever Legolas was about to talk to him was so aggravating! Had the elf a sixth sense to know to the precise minute when he could enter the room without fear of being the only visitor? _Argg__!! This is so frustrating! __And I cannot simply rise from bed and go looking for him, or corner him somewhere! And I would wager he knows very well that I wish to speak to him, and what the subject is as well. I cannot do anything about it, short of speaking to him in front of everyone, which I will not do. But I cannot leave it off like this! I cannot!_

At that moment, there was a soft knock on the door before a little head stuck in from behind the wall. A head full of black hair from under which two huge gray eyes stared at him, no more than four feet from the floor.

Legolas looked back at the child, as a smile spread on his face.

_I got you now, Lord of Imladris…_

The smile grew into a mischievous grin that did not bode well for whoever might find himself at the receiving end of the…event. 

_A someone__ with long dark hair, pointy ears and twin sons, someone who has grown as nebulous as mist of late. Someone who will find himself 'somewhat' uncomfortable in a very short while…_

~*~*~

"Aaaaadaaaaa!!!" a ball of terrified energy burst into the Lord of Imladris' guest room. It stopped in the middle of the room and dissolved into Estel, face bright red with exertion, and unable to regain his breath. Lord Elrond was on his knees next to him in less than a heartbeat, holding his son by the shoulders to keep him from sagging. His mind whirled with all the possibilities of trouble, as his heart constricted painfully at seeing his son so distraught.

"Estel? What is it? What's wrong? Are you hurt? Estel?" 

Estel finally looked up, his big eyes brimming with tears, and took one last, long shuddering breath before saying one word. One word that drained all blood from his ada's face.

"Legolas…"

~*~*~

A/N~ so what did you think? *evil grin* Don't worry, the next part will be up in a week or less. =) in the meantime, please review, and thank you for all you lovely people who reviewed the last chapter! *hugs the reviews and waves happily*


	12. part 12 The second messenger

~ To start anew ~

by Ola

~*~*~

A/N~ sorry for the short chapter. I'm leaving on vacations tomorrow (I've been packing and doing last minute stuff all day today) and have taken a little time to update this part before I leave, because there won't be anything else for two months (yes, there is no internet access to where I'm going, what am I going to do?!!! Arrgg!! *sigh*) So I hope you won't be too disappointed. Sorry. And I don't even know if I'll go see the fireworks today. Aii!! =(

Hopefully, when I come back, I'll have lots more of this story, ready to type and update! How is that? *grins* Thanks so much for reviewing (sorry again, no comments, because I really don't have the time). Do here is the story. Enjoy! =)

~*~*~

Part 12~ The second messenger

"Aaaaaddaaaaa!!!" a ball of terrified energy burst into the Lord of Imladris' guest room. It stopped in the middle of the room and dissolved into Estel, face bright red with exertion, and unable to regain his breath. Lord Elrond was on his knees next to him in less than a heartbeat, holding his son by the shoulders to keep him from sagging. His mind whirled with all the possibilities of trouble, as his heart constricted painfully at seeing his son so distraught.

"Estel? What is it? What's wrong? Are you hurt? Estel?" 

Estel finally looked up, his big eyes brimming with tears, and took one last, long shuddering breath before saying one word. One word that drained all blood from his ada's face.

"Legolas…"

The Eldar did not wait to hear more. He scooped Estel in his arms and ran. The hallways seemed interminably long, as second after second past, and still there was no sight of the prince's room. _Whatever had gone wrong? He had looked rather well –as well as a sick elf might look- this morning. Was this another relapse? Had he decided to…to…leave? Now? Against everything I had told him? Was it _because_ of what I had told him? Oh God…_

His strangled sob was drowned by the pounding of his feet on the stone floor.

_Oh Eru…please… No… Not him. Don't let him go. Please. I…_ He knew he was babbling, but he could not really bring his mind to think about anything else. The vision of the young prince, so pale and so little in that big bed filled his eyes. And still he ran, overcome with fear and guilt. He ran…and prayed.

~*~*~

He crashed into the door, almost taking the thick slab of wood out of its hinges –he _would_ have, had it not been for Estel, still in his arms- and slide to an incredulous halt.

"Good day Lord Elrond." 

The Eldar stood and stared, unable to take his eyes from the young elf propped up in bed by a large number of big fluffy pillows. His mind went blank for a moment. It felt distinctively as if it had left for a walk around the woods until its owner could bring himself to put two coherent words together.

And then Legolas grinned. And the smirk grew and grew by the moment, until it had to stop perforce before it split his face in two.

_That_, if anything else, got through the fog in the Healer's head. And when he recovered, he was _not happy._

"What is the meaning of this?" He did not bite his words of, but his voice was colder than winter rains. He unceremoniously put Estel on his feet again, and after a quick glance at the child's uncertain smile, he vowed to have a word with his son as well. Soon.

Legolas became serious. "I needed to talk to you, and you seemed disinclined to stay and chat."

Lord Elrond's mouth opened and closed without uttering a single word. When he seemed about to leave, the young elf spoke again.

"It's important. Please." Finally, the healer nodded, although his expression did not change. And now that Legolas had his quarry trapped, he did not really know where to begin without sounding rude or nosy. "I…I wish to thank you for …everything. I appreciate what you have done, even though that day, I dearly wished for you to go to Hell. I'm sorry. I do not know how to _begin _to thank you, for I owe you my life." Lord Elrond opened his mouth again as if to speak, but the prince forestalled him. "No, hear me out please for there seems to be another misunderstanding. That day I told Vanyar he was an evil healer, I meant to point out that he knew I had finally decided to fight for my life _before_ I became ill, and he did not entrust my father with this knowledge, and let him worry half to death while I was unconscious. According to him, he wanted me to be the one to tell ada the good news, although how on Middle-Earth I was supposed to tell him _anything_ while I was out cold is beyond me. I had no intention to hurt your feelings, especially not after your … talk. I dearly regret if you thought I was resentful that you brought the past before my eyes. It hurt to see it again as much as it did that first day, but I am thankful that you tried, for you succeeded, as I would have not, without your aid." 

Silence descended on the room until Lord Elrond took a step toward the bed and kneeled next to it, taking Legolas' hand in his own. His eyes held a strange brilliance and his voice shook slightly but there was a smile on his face when he said "thank you Legolas. It means much to me to hear you speak thus. I…" he heaved a shaky sigh before continuing "I was unsure I had done the right thing. But I…" he glanced at Estel who had stood silently in a corner and beckoned him over into his arms "I have children of my own, and know how painful it is to see them suffer. Perhaps it was paternal affection, perhaps it was just your dashing looks." Both elves smiled as the mood lightened, until the Eldar became serious again. "I thank you Legolas." He stood with the grace of the Lord he was, and nodded toward the prince. "With your leave?"

Legolas nodded. "Farewell. May the stars shine on you." 

"And on you youngling." The healer took Estel's hand and opened the door.

"Lord Elrond?" the dark haired elf turned around, his left eyebrow raised in that unconscious tic of his. "Please do not punish Estel. I asked him to play the messenger, and seeing your entry, I assume he played his role a little _too perfectly." Estel looked at his father with tense anticipation, wondering whether his ada would be merciful, or whether he would have to avoid sitting for the next few hours because of the smacking he would receive on the seat of his pants. The two elves obviously knew what was going on through the child's mind, for they couldn't stop grinning. _

Lord Elrond ruffled his son's hair then took him in his arms. "Do not worry ion nin. I am not angry with you." And with that, he left, but just before he disappeared behind the door, Legolas saw Estel squirm around in his father's grasp and without his notice, give the prince two thumbs up and a grin to rival the mischievous ones of his twin brothers.

Mission accomplished. He would have to give the little scamp those three honey cookies he had promised him.

~*~*~

A/N~ here is your cookie cheysuli! I finally put it in!! lol. It makes me laugh =) hope you liked it. Hope everyone liked it. 

Not very happy with the title. Sounds like biology all over again. Aii. But I want to keep the other idea I had for the next chapter because it fits there a lot better. =)

Thank you for reviewing! *hugs everyone, then waves and boards the plain* =)


	13. part 13 Feathers

~ To start anew ~

by Ola

~*~*~

A/N~ Ah! no! writer's block!!! =( Will. Fight. It. Must. Fight.!! Grrrr!!! 

Okay, so here it goes. Never thought it would be so hard to pick up a story after leaving it alone for a few months. I hope it isn't too bad. I tried to connect it to the previous parts, and not make the break stand out too much. Hope it worked.

On another note. There's some Legolas, Estel, humor and angst. I really hope to be able to get into gear again with this story, and finish it in a good time. Wish me luck, cause I'll have to fit it in into an already surcharged schedule. Aii!!

~*~*~

Part 13~

"Legolas?" Estel's gray eyes peered anxiously into the young elf's blue ones. There was something on his mind, and by his expression, it was both eating him up with curiosity, and making him squirm with the knowledge that perhaps this was not yet the right time to ask.

"Yes?" 

"I…" he found his shoes suddenly very fascinating. "Why-are-you-sick?-I-heard-ada-say-you-can't-move.-Is-that-true?" His words ran together in his haste and fear.

The point blank shots of young children never failed to make their impressions.

"…"

The little boy looked up as the silence grew slightly heavy. His eyes became round and wide as he mumbled a quick "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to," and went back to staring at his little shoes with a vengeance, unconsciously wringing his hands.

…_I…_A soft sigh escape the elf as he momentarily closed his eyes against the wave of pain as memories flooded his mind. _I can't…not yet…But it's Estel. He helped me with Elrond. Damn it, he helped me a lot more than with that. He deserves to know…_

_…but do you deserve to hurt yourself in the process?__                        Do you want to?_

He opened his eyes again and his heart spasmed painfully at the sight of the little boy cringing away from his gaze. _No…please…don't…_

"Estel?"

The past could not be as painful as the present, could it? Nothing, not even memories, cold hurt as much as seeing the child dash angrily at his shameful tears, could it? _Could it?_

"No. I cannot move," he spoke barely above a whisper, closing his eyes to fight against the invisible hands that clenched his heart and throat. Would ever a time come when he would be able to reminisce that day without tears in his eyes and a painful lack of air in his lungs?

"You don't have to talk about it. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you cry." Estel's own eyes filled with tears as he scrambled from his chair and ran to the prince's bedside, embracing him in a clumsy but heartfelt hug. There was nothing in the world Legolas wouldn't give away at the moment to be able to return the embrace, and show the boy how much he was moved.

_So young, and yet so wise.___

"Ssshhh…it's okay. You did nothing wrong little one. Do not be sorry." How awkward it was to show with words what he wanted to demonstrate with actions! And how frustrating! What to tell a panic-stricken child full of remorse? How to show love and sincerity? "How I wish to be able to hold you back, little one. I am sorry that I cannot. Please, do not cry. I am sorry if you thought I was angry with you. Estel?" How words were inappropriate in such conditions!

Estel hiccupped and wiped his tears with the back of his sleeve, wriggling a little as he searched for a comfortable position on Legolas' bed. Big gray eyes regarded the elf with childish curiosity, all sorrow seemingly forgotten like a bad dream.

"You really can't?" he inhaled the last word in fascination. Whether human or elven, little boys would always be little boys.

"No," the prince tried a little smile, and found it strangely easier than expected. "I cannot feel anything below my elbows."

"Wow…" Estel's eyes went round, then, if possible, rounder still as he clapped his little hands on his mouth. "I'm sorry! I didn't mean…"

Legolas' smile grew a little more. "Do not be sorry little one. I already told you so."

Estel's mouth formed a little "o" of surprise. "How…how did it happen?"

"I was shot by an orc arrow in the back. It broke my spine." Such few words. More painful than so many arrows. And yet…a little less than the same thoughts had been yesterday. Legolas heaved a sigh, and tried to turn the corner of his lips into a semblance of a smile. Estel was too young to think about such things. He should not know of the cruelty of the word. Should he?

Obviously, the little boy in question thought over wise, for he scuttled a little closer and pocked the elf in the stomach. 

"The fact that I can't feel that doesn't give you the right to turn me black and blue you little imp." Estel grinned, but obligingly stopped. However, not two minutes had passed before there appeared in his eyes a mysterious little flicker and he jumped of the bed, to be back a heartbeat later, his grin wider than ever. Out from behind his back, he produced…a feather. And not just any feather. It was the one he had gifted the prince that first day.

Legolas starred at him in bemusement, then smirked. "It won't work. You can try as long as you wish, little friend." Well, at least one good thing came out of this whole disaster. Nobody, and I mean _nobody, will ever tickle his toes to wake him up! But Estel looked just a tad too sure of himself, and the elf's cocked his head to the side, wondering what the boy had in mind. _

Too late did he see the dreaded weapon approach his face and make a quick swipe under his nose.

_What the hell!!_

Before Legolas could recover from his shock and from the terrible feeling of the soft quill, Estel moved in again. Try as he may, he could note escape it; the more he moved his head from side to side, the more it tickled!!

"Estel! Stop this right now you…you little…_imp!_" but the scolding came out as a pathetic little whine, interspersed with hysterical laughter. "I'll tie you to a chair and do the same to you!

"Hee hee, oh really?" The feather continued its dance. How could such an innocent exterior hide such an evil little being?

"Stop! Please!...And I'll give you anything you want! I promise! Anything! Esteeeelllll!!!!"

"Anything?" Legolas had _no idea how he could switch from demon to angel in a heartbeat. The feather mercifully stopped in mid air, right in front of the elf's face. _Aha, got you now!_ The prince lunged at the offending softness and caught it between his teeth, looking rather smugly at Estel's dismayed face. Yep. Although after a while, the soggy feather began to taste rather…bad, and the elf ungracefully spit it out, tufts of it remaining glued to his mouth. He looked in all the world like a cat after eating a flying meal._

"Okay! I know what I want!"

_…what?__ Ah, yes, the promise. Although I didn't really mean it. Yes you did. No I… oh well. Here it comes then._

"Which is…?"

"I want you to con-vince ada to let me learn to ride a real horse!" the little boy waved his hands in the air, obviously ecstatic, and Legolas, just as obviously not, looked at him with a strange look in his eyes.

"I will, little one," he half-whispered, half-chocked. "I will. Could you please leave me alone for a little while? I am really sorry, but I feel very tired."

Estel nodded, his eyes round with worry, hopping it wasn't his fault. It wasn't, was it? He didn't hurt his friend, right? Because he really didn't mean to. He only wanted to make him laugh a little. To make him happy. He didn't like it when people were sad. It wasn't right.

At the door, he looked back at Legolas, suddenly very pale, and looking half asleep already. The soft smile he caught before leaving helped considerably, although his nagging conscience, as underdeveloped as it was, wouldn't leave him alone.

He hadn't hurt him, right? _Right!?_

~*~*~

A/N! so, what did you think? Did I loose my touch? I'm sorry, no comments, and I didn't even proofread it. Aii! Hope it's not too bad, but wanted it out of the way before something else came up and delayed me for a few more days.

ola


	14. part 14 Laurenor

~ To start anew ~

by Ola

~*~*~

A/N~ huh, it has been so long since I have written this story… I really hope that it hasn't lost too much of its character, and that there isn't too much of a gap between…well everything. I'm a little reluctant to post this new chapter, since I don't know how well it will go through with you guys. Aii! Please tell me if something is going wrong…won't you?

~*~*~

Part 14~

_"I want you to con-vince ada to let me learn to ride a real horse!"_

Laurenor.

How long had it been? How long since that day? 

The world narrowed down to Laur, all other thoughts pushed out of his mind. Guilt flooded through him. Yes, he had shunned all his other friends but…this was Laur. His Laur. His partner. He had a right to know. _But are you ready? Are you ready to face the past?_

Legolas squeezed his eyes shut, desperately wanting to roll into a ball of cold comfort. Lying like this, every hour of every day…staring at the ceiling…And Laur? Was he well cared for? Was he warm enough? _Ada__ took care of him. I know. But… _but you didn't. You left him, just like you left everyone else. You're not the only one who is hurting Legolas. Ada has suffers as much, and so has Laur, in his own way._ _

Once again, tears could not stop from flowing down his cheeks, for as much as those words stung his soul, they were also very true. And they made the young elf sick to realize what he had forced Laur and his friends to go through. _You're a selfish little prick._

And the tears flowed faster, blurring his vision. No feeling, no sight…only smell and sound. The sound of a soft knock, and even softer "Legolas?"

"Ada." His voice broke as Lord Thranduil sad down on the edge of the bed and gently smoothed his hair away.

"Yes Sunshine?"

"I…I want you to take me outside…to see Laurenor…" his father's eyes were unreadable, and that, more than anything gave him the little strength he needed to meet his resolve. "Please ada. I need to see him."

As for Lord Thranduil, he was torn between elation that his son finally wanted, needed to experience life, and fear for his well being, physical as well as psychological. He did not want someone to laugh or to point a finger, for he knew it would destroy his son's hard won confidence in himself. But perhaps Laur would help the prince that much more… and Legolas wanted to see him. The king shook his head and smiled ruefully. _I've never been able to refuse him anything._

"Wish you to go now?"

The young elf bit his lip and nodded, whispering "yes please."

Bundling the elfling into a warm blanket was a short affair, but getting him out of the royal chambers unnoticed was another matter altogether, that left the king somewhat out of breath, and Legolas laughing at the narrowly missed encounters with guards and friends. Avoiding any and all elves became an impromptu game such as one both royal family members had not engaged in a long time. 

Out of the stony embrace of the palace walls however, the pair earned a few curious glances. Their owners were fortunately polite enough not to run to the king and their prince to finally demand explanations. But as they drew close to the corrals housing the elfin steeds, their presence did not go as unnoticed. As they turned a corner, a piercing neing resounded from a streak of gold galloping toward them at full speed. Lord Thranduil's smooth gate faltered, his grip on his son tightening unconsciously. But there was no time for thoughts. Laurenor jumped over the low fence and was by his partner's side in a heartbeat, nuzzling Legolas as if he was a mare reuniting with her own youngling. 

"I do hope the both of you will behave yourselves," the eldar admonished with a smile kept behind tight lips. Legolas suppressed his own little smirk as he looked into his father's merry eyes. 

"Of course ada." Whether the youngling would keep his promise remained to be seen, but at least, when Lord Thranduil walked onto the field and propped him up next to Laur when the horse laid down, he knew that this day he should be thankful to Eru for this little step in his son's recovery.

~*~*~

_I can't believe I have been such a selfish little brat_, Legolas thought to himself as he reclined leisurely against the smooth coat of Laurenor. He looked at his partner again and smiled at the happy steed. He could practically _feel_ the glow of pleasure emanating from Laur. _I should have come to him much sooner. But what is done is done. At least now he knows how grateful I am to him. With a soft sigh, he once again repeated what could never be said enough._

"I will always be in your debt, Laur. I owe you my life. And so does everyone in Mirkwood for your timely missive." Laurenor whickered and softly nudged his shoulder with his muzzle. 

"Yes, yes, I know you love me." The prince's face brightened with a beautiful smile. "I love you too. And I wish I could hug you, and brush your coat until it shines, and…and… so many other things do I wish." S_such__ thoughts should not be held in my mind. Not when you are once again next to me. Not when the sun shines so bright. Not when there is hope for a better tomorrow. The elfling's sigh turned into a little smile. _Yes, there should always be hope. Even when's I am tiring much too quickly. And t…__

The prince's head gently dropped onto his partner's flank and his eyes slid shut, as the sun continued to shine over the pair, and the wind gently caressed his hair.

Hope.

                        Always…hope.

~*~*~

A/N- aiii!! The above chapter definitely sucks. =( and it's way too short. And nothing happens in it. And…and… gahhh. I think I'll skip a few months of the story and begin the next chapter with something more interesting going on…

*sigh* still review please!

-ola- 


	15. part 15 The calm before the storm

~ To start anew ~

by Ola

~*~*~

A/N~ 

~*~*~

Part 15~

"You will not be swayed to change your decision?"

"I cannot, dear friend."

"But… Legolas…"

"Legolas will be fine. Do not trouble yourself so."

The king of Mirkwood heaved a sigh, while his gaze stayed trained on the horse lying on the grass outside and the bundle of blankets that reposed on its flank. The distance was no obstacle. A worried heart always knew where to look.

"You cannot tell me to bring my worrying to an end. It is his life about which we discuss."

"I am well aware of that my friend. As I am about a father's concern." An understanding glance passed between the two elders. Many a time have the two lords exchanged tells of their elflings' mischief. And to no end have they worried. Often times for good reasons, as sobbing younglings had run back to their fathers for reassurance or healing of body and heart. This instance was no different.

"I know. … I know. But… have you not…have you no inkling of what the future may hold for him?" Something. Anything. The king was grasping at straws.

"His time has not revealed itself to my eyes. I am not meant to see it."

"B…" Lord Elrond raised a hand to forestall any comment.

"He will live. I know that." Again, a sigh escaped Lord Tranduil. 

"Hard is such a hazy future to accept, good as it may be."

For all answer, Lord Elrond placed a comforting hand on his friend's shoulder. No, he could never truly understand the other's position and pain. But a father's concern and love never changed, no matter the importance of the facts.

Both elves looked out the large window.

No. Nothing could change a father's concern.

"Ada?" a soft knock and a little dark-haired head peaked out from around the door's frame. A smile instantly graced the eldars' faces.

"Yes Estel?" silence returned to the study as the little boy decided what exactly he wished to impart, only to then have his words rushed out and colliding together.

"Idon'twanttogo!"

"…"

"I want to stay with Legolas! I don't want to leave yet!" His warm gray eyes turned round and pleading for all their worth. The king of Mirkwood kneeled down by the child, and smiled.

"Perhaps you could help me persuade your ada, while I could not. Hmm?"  

 "Do not give him ideas, you irrevocable rogue." Despite the words, Lord Elrond's lips tugged into a smile of their own. Mayhap the two friends should have stayed together to reminisce about times past, when they were as young as their children, and just as misbehaved. Those times had been so worry-free. So innocent. … So much has changed now. For the better and the worse. 

No one could stop time.

And did anyone truly wish to?

"I am sorry dear heart. We must go. Your brothers and sister miss you, and I cannot stay long away from home. We will visit soon again, all right?" At the sound of his siblings, Estel's face lit up with joy, only to once again fall into its previous pitiful state.

"You promise?"

"Yes Estel. I promise. We will visit Legolas soon." _I truly wish this promise to be true. Eru, please. Let me not be wrong about his future and his current state. Let me not come back to Mirkwood to lay to rest both of them. _The Elven lord closed his eyes against the sudden vision. _No. It will not happen. Those are simply an old man's unhealthy musings. _

"Can I tell him goodbye?"

"Certainly. We will all come down to see him. Come."

~*~*~

The princeling weighed far too little in his father's arms as both elves watched their departing friends.

"Lord Elrond departed rather quickly, think you not? It is not his wont to give his patients such mercy," a smile graced the younger of the two.

"Perhaps he grew weary of your disobedience to his commends, sunshine.:

"Oh, ada, I was not so bad… was I."

"Only a little."

"But still, all humor aside, it is not like him. Something must be truly amiss in Rivendell." A silence descended as two pairs of blue eyes watched the now clear road while King Thraduil decided just how much to tell his son of the current events that plagued Middle-Earth.

"Your message concerned not only Mirkwood. Evil grows in the East. Mordor becomes stronger. Sauron has not yet much force, but he is biding his time." The silence suddenly turned colder. 

"Ada?"

"Yes sunshine?"

"… How will it all end? For it _will _end some time…" the eldar's hands tightened unconsciously around his son's light frame. He did not wish to think of such dark times. And yet, they kept on coming, no matter how much one wished to keep them at bay. They simply slivered past all defenses, only to crop up at the most unexpected moment, driving all light and warmth away. Both the death of Mordor and life's destiny as well…

~*~*~

A/N~ Sorry for ending it on such a dark note. But I knew that if I didn't end here and post this little part (aiii, I'm truly sorry for the length), I wouldn't do it for another long while. *sigh* too much going on right now. Declaring a major, trying to find a program to study abroad, plus the abominable exams and daily conundrum of classes and homeworks. I hope some of you are still hanging on there somewhere! =)

~Ola~


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